What's a Girl to Do? (Season 6)
by originella
Summary: Newly released from prison, Murphy Gallagher-Blomqvist is determined to prove her innocence, no matter what its cost. With two relationships fizzling out and one reigniting, Murphy must figure out where her loyalties lie as she navigates through life, once the charges are dropped. When she calls her own marriage into question, Murphy must figure out what she wants once and for all.
1. Angel Eyes

Chapter One: Angel Eyes

I am uncuffed as soon as we arrive at the station, where someone mercifully takes care of my bleeding nose before I am hauled back like a common criminal and finger printed. They restrain my arm and forefinger as they do so, and I wonder if they really think I'd run at this point. I am numb as I am ushered over to that godforsaken height chart, where I am told to stare into the camera so that they can take my mugshot. However, I find that, in my numbness, I am frozen, unable to move unless bended to their will, and although I make no moves to cry, I find that being devoid of emotion is better than anything else.

"Gallagher!" the photographer quips, obviously wanting to get home for the night.

My eyes immediately raise upwards at the stranger shouting my surname, and the camera flashes then, momentarily blinding me. As I feel woozy for a moment, the officer steps forward, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, where I am taken down the hallway towards another room. I look up then at the imposing woman standing guard, and the officer leaves us alone, whereupon the woman shoves me into the room.

"You're going to strip," she tells me, snapping on a glove before shutting the door with her free hand. "Then, you're going to bend over."

 _Christ_ , I thought to myself, but as I move to turn around, the woman narrows her eyes at me, so I remain where I was, going towards the buttons of my white blouse, slightly stained with my blood, unbuttoning them as quickly as I dared. Once my blouse was removed, the woman snapped out with her claw-like hands and took it, and then I moved onto my skirt, stepping out of it quickly. Next, I unhooked my bra and hooked my fingers into my panties, removing them and mutely handing them over to the woman.

"Bend over," the woman said, obviously growing impatient with me.

I gritted my teeth, facing away from her then and doing my best to focus upon the wall in front of me as I bent my knees. The teeth gritting helped, and distracted me from crying; I would not allow myself to be considered weak, although I felt myself stumbling ever so slightly then as she stuck her fingers inside me, and I'd never felt more violated in my life. Sure, it was this woman's job to do things like this, but, in that moment, I didn't care. I'd done nothing wrong, and I was still being treated like a common criminal.

"Get up," the woman says, and issues me a white pair of panties, a white sports bra, and a burnt-colored prison jumpsuit.

"Really?" I asked, the word escaping my mouth before I could call it back.

The woman narrowed her eyes at me, assuring me that she wasn't shitting me, and I'd better obey her, and quickly. She handed over the clothes, which I promptly pulled over my head and stepped into, and she curled her lip slightly—she really didn't like me. She then handed over a pair of white socks and sneakers, waiting for me to tie the laces as she checked her phone—man, everyone in here had a vendetta against me, didn't they?

"You'll get your schedule and work assignment tomorrow," the woman said as we left that room, and I was immediately relieved that we had done so. "It's too late to have a shower, but you'll be all right until the morning. Unless, of course, you make bail," she said, obviously knowing that I was South Side, and unlikely to make bail, but boy, was she wrong. "Here we are—the palace suite," she said, her tone sarcastic as we stepped into a room, filled with dozens upon dozens of rows of beds. She got two thin blankets from a cupboard on the wall, which she had to unlock via a padlock first, before shutting it up again and handing over the blankets to me—I vaguely detected a pillow somewhere in the mix as we walked along. "Here," she said, indicating a free bed, and all the other women around us took me in then, as if I was ripe for the taking. "Lights out in ten minutes, girls!" she said, walking out of there.

"What you in for?" asked another woman, whose bed was across from mine.

I lowered my eyes. "Aiding and abetting."

"First timer?"

I nodded, adjusting my blankets and pillow around me. "Yeah." I raised my eyes to hers then, and decided to pose a question to her. "What are you here for?"

"Robbing a convenience store," she replied with a shrug. "Gotta feed our families."

I nodded at her, wanting her to think that I was on her side, so as I wouldn't get knifed in my sleep for some reason. "Sure, yeah," I replied.

The lights were out sooner than expected, and all I could think about was the fact that I wanted, needed, to be in my own bed, with my husband, with the comfort of knowing that our children were close by. Our children; they were all ours now, given that Nicholas had adopted Iana as his own just hours before. I wondered then, as the exhaustion of the day manifested itself into every fiber of my being, if anyone knew that Trevor had been the one to turn me in and, if and when it ever came to light, what would happen because of it.

When the buzzer sounded the following morning at five, the lights came on automatically, and I noticed the other women folding their blankets and positioning them at the foot of their beds. I quickly moved and did the same, standing in line with the rest of them as the warden or whoever came around, checking us over to make sure we hadn't acquired any lethal weapons during the night when we were supposed to be asleep. I kept my mouth shut, trying to keep my body language in check as they walked by me, and nothing was done, thankfully.

We were then allowed to leave the room, and it felt good to just walk around freely for a while; and yet I knew that I was not free. The very fact that I was in a jumpsuit, labeled along with the rest of these women as hardened criminals, proved that. I followed the women to the cafeteria, where I was issued a tray and given something that looked like a slightly improved version of gruel, but likely was just as watered-down and unflavored. Stumbling to keep up, I was waved to the area filled with tables, sitting by myself and doing my best to eat this godforsaken food that was somehow approved by the FDA for the prison system.

I was given my work assignment over breakfast, and was told that I would be on kitchen duty, assisting the staff in washing dishes. I was relieved—finally, a task I was able to do—and promptly reported for duty as soon as I'd finished eating. The women in the kitchen showed me to my station—a trough-like sink made of battered porcelain—and I immediately rolled up my sleeves, putting on the yellow gloves provided and taking the apron, and began to scrub the dishes, thinking of my family and attempting to get the job done right, which included not breaking anything. I zoned out then, the sensation of the hot water eliminating the numbness of my hands as I worked, focusing entirely on the patterns the soap bubbles made on the surface of the dishes I scrubbed.

"Gallagher!"

I nearly dropped the plate I was washing, hastily getting the soap bubbles off of it before placing it into the drying rack. Turning around, I spotted a warden facing me, and I wondered if prison dish washing was different than just doing it in your own home, or at the diner. "Yes?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Come with me," they said. "And take all that stuff off."

"What's going on?" I asked, still rooted to the spot.

The warden sighed impatiently. "You made bail. Let's go."

Quickly, I yanked off the gloves, placing them on the edge of the skin, and untied my apron, hanging it on the peg as I followed the warden. We walked out and through the cafeteria, down the corridor and into a small room, where I saw a bag filled with my clothes from the night before, and couldn't understand why they were being shown to me. The warden looked at the bag and then looked at me, and, mutely, I changed out of the jumpsuit, administered undergarments, sneakers, and socks, before I made a grab for clothes from the evening before and pulled them on as quickly as I dared.

Next, I was lead from that room and out front, where I was given back my wedding ring, cell phone, wallet, keys, and anything else I had on my person which had been snatched from me the night before. I kept silent, taking all my things, putting my ring on my finger, my wallet and keys in my pocket, and kept my phone gripped in my hand as I was taken to the front door. The balmy heat of June greeted me, and as I stepped outside, I felt sudden relief, gulping the air as I looked around me, wondering if I'd need to take the L back home, when I saw Hugo standing there by his Lincoln town car.

I found myself standing there for a moment, unknowing as to how to react to Nicholas's father standing before me. "Hugo?" I asked, stepping forward, my voice uncertain.

My father-in-law smiled, stepping forward and embracing me immediately. "I hope last night wasn't too horrible for you."

I laughed then, hugging him back. "Nothing I can't handle," I replied, pulling back, and smiling when he opened the passenger door of his car for me, letting me inside. I went silent again as he shut my door, circling around the car and letting himself in, starting up the beast quickly. "Did you post my bail?" I asked.

"No, that was Nicholas."

I nodded. "Is he not speaking to me?"

"No, he's at the firm trying to figure out a legal defense on your behalf," Hugo replied. "And, meanwhile, Allie and I are trying to negotiate favors to figure out who turned you in, and how we can get these charges dropped."

I shook my head at him as we left the grounds of the jail. "You don't need to look too far," I told him, the sour taste in my mouth from the night before returning.

"Yeah? What do you mean?" Hugo asked.

"Trevor turned me in," I replied simply.

Hugo looked aghast at the declaration, trying to see reason for it as we continued driving. "My son has a meeting with Mason Crowe today," he informed me carefully. "Maybe Mason can shed some light on what went down recently."

I nodded, attempting to keep my wits about me as Hugo drove me home. "Where are Iana and the boys?" I asked, my heart hammering in my chest in case something had happened to them. "I need to know that they're okay..."

"Allie took them out for the day," Hugo said, easily alleviating my fears. "She'll have them back before dinner, before Nicholas comes home. We thought you'd want the opportunity to settle back in before the fight..."

I scoffed. "The legal fight, or the personal one when I potentially kick the ass of my twin brother's boyfriend?"

Hugo smirked, navigating himself so that he wouldn't inadvertently send us running off the road and into a ditch. "Both," he replied.

We drove the rest of the way to the home I shared with his son in virtual silence, and I thanked him for the ride before getting out of the car. "Do I need to do or say anything now?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

Hugo looked confused. "What do you mean?"

I sighed. "Well, you're the closest thing I've ever had to a father," I admitted. "My adoptive father left when I was five, and my adoptive stepfather... Well, you know the story. And I'm sure Nicholas has told you about Frank on more than one occasion..."

Hugo reached out then, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We're family, Murphy. You're married to my son, which makes you officially a Blomqvist. And no matter what the public says, I don't believe a word of the charges stacked against you. Just know that Nicholas, Allie, and I are going to do whatever we can to make this go away."

I smiled. "Thank you, Hugo, but I'm not so sure it's that easy," I replied. I slipped from the car then, waving him off as I fumbled for my keys in my pocket. I turned around then, turning my back on the yard that I'd been arrested in less than twenty-four hours before, and made my way through my own yard, up the porch steps, and into the house.

It was so quiet as I stepped inside, and as I shut the door behind me, I felt as if I was drowning inside it, so I resolved to go about my day. Trudging towards the stairs, I made my way up them and into the master bedroom, stepping into the bathroom and staring at myself in the mirror as I remove my clothes from the night before, allowing them to go into their respective piles upon the floor. I felt the sudden urge to punch the glass, to make a spider web pattern with the breakage, and allow my knuckles to bleed. I felt a sob erupts from my throat then, and I slammed my hand down onto the counter, the sudden pain that came out of it notwithstanding.

"Fuck!" I screamed then, dragging my hands through my hair. "You son of a bitch, how the fuck could you do this to me?!"

I shook my head at my naïvety—of course he had done this, and my days had been numbered from the moment I'd revealed to him that Mickey was Iana's father. If my mind could have somehow cooperated with my brain, and not turned against me in the darkness of my thoughts, then maybe, just maybe, things would've turned out differently. Pushing the thought momentarily from my mind, I stepped into the shower then, wanting to wash the toxicity of the Chicago prison system out of my skin. The sweet smell of my shampoo and conditioner nearly turned my stomach, however, and yet I resolved to get through it, knowing that, perhaps if I smelled like myself, I could get sane again.

I got out of the shower as quickly as possible, not wanting to touch myself, as I could remember the fat fingers of the female guard probing me, to check and see if I'd had the nerve to smuggle drugs into the jail. Shaking my head, I gathered up my clothes from the night before; I recalled carefully selecting the outfit the morning before, and how excited I was about Nicholas's adoption of Iana. Now, they would always be a bitter reminder of my first arrest, and I never wanted to look at them again.

My phone buzzed from across the room then, and I went, wrapped in a towel, towards it to see who was contacting me at eleven a.m. I smiled automatically when I saw Nicholas's number, and quickly devoured the text he had sent me.

 _Just went to see Mason Crowe_ , _and got the information we were looking for_. _It seems that the_ " _good samaritan_ " _who took it upon themselves to turn you in was Trevor_ , _as in Ian_ ' _s Trevor_ , _so I think we have a mission ahead of us_. _See you at home later_. _I love you_.

I felt the gasp leaving my throat then before I could summon it back, the next thing I heard was my heart hammering in my chest all over again. So, my suspicions had been confirmed, and I was officially out for blood. I knew I had to do something about it—hell, my twin was seeing this guy, and I needed to set the record straight. Of course, part of me wanted Ian to choose, but I also knew that I couldn't force his hand. I would expose Trevor and his dealings towards me, but the rest was up to Ian.

I pulled on a sports bra and panties, following up with a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, before I gathered my wits about me. Stepping back into the bathroom, the summer heat had mostly dried my hair for me, and I promptly put it into a high ponytail on my head before I brushed my teeth. I found I was not hungry as I returned to my room, grabbing a pair of sandals and putting my freshly-charged cell phone into my pocket, and headed back downstairs. I picked up my keys from where they were in the bowl by the door, and stepped out of the house.

The walk down my porch steps, through my yard, and across the street was easy, but the moment my sandal hit the pavement on the other side, it was another story. Heart hammering in my chest again, I stepped through the gate and up the stairs, letting myself in with my key, and just standing motionless on the threshold for a moment. Looking through the door and into the living room, I saw everyone from last night—except for Nicholas, Allie, Hugo, Iana, and the boys—passed out in various states of disarray in the living room.

Shaking my head, I pushed opened the door, my stomach turning automatically when I saw Ian sleeping with Trevor leaning on his shoulder. "Uh, hi," I said, and clapped my hands for good measure, and everyone unsteadily woke up. "I'm out."

Ian's eyes snapped open then, relief flooding his face as he launched himself up from the couch, throwing his arms around me and holding me against him. "Jesus Christ, Murph," he whispered, seeming as if he was reluctant to let me go.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing the sincerity into my voice as I pulled back. "No harm done."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Fiona demanded then, yanking me towards her. "No harm done?! You've got to be crazy..."

"Trust me, it's all going to be okay," I assured her, hugging her.

"That scared us," Debbie said, stepping forward tentatively and hugging me. "I don't want you to go anywhere, Murph."

I shook my head at her, holding her close. "Not gonna happen, Debs." I looked around her then and found myself smiling. "Carl!" I said, stepping forward. "You made it out! I'm so glad you're here for me!"

"Always," Carl replied, hugging me. "It's fucked what happened to you, Murph."

"No shit," Lip replied, stepping forward and knocking Carl out of the way so that he could hug me. "When I find the guy responsible..."

"It's coming, Lip, don't worry," I said, letting him go and looking at Liam. "Hey, little man," I said, smiling at him. "You hate me?"

"No," Liam replied, launching himself at me as Fiona had done, embracing me. "Just don't go away, Murph. You promised."

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him. I hugged Kev and V next, pleased that they were there for the family, before pulling back. "I wanted you all to know that Nicholas texted me before I came over here this morning. He spoke to a friend of his, Detective Mason Crowe, and was able to figure out who turned me in."

"Who was it?" Fiona demanded, her tone fierce, her proud lioness coming out to play. "Tell us right now, Murphy."

Mutely, I handed over my phone to Fiona after accessing the text message, and looked at Trevor from the corner of my eye, who had the nerve to look nervous. "See for yourself," I said, and waited for Fiona to react.

"No," she said then, her voice practically shaking with emotion then as she raised her eyes to mine in a moment of shock. "Murph..."

"I had my suspicions about it, Fi, ever since my arrest last night, but I'm afraid it's true," I said as she handed over the phone to Lip, her eyes never leaving mine.

Lip appeared enraged then. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he replied, and handed my phone to Debbie.

"What the fuck?" she whispered, and handed it over to Carl.

Carl's hand shook then as he read the message. "I don't believe it," he said, his tone in firm belief as he gave my phone to Liam.

"Damn," Liam whispered, automatically handing off my phone to Kev and V.

"Not cool, man," Kev said.

"Jesus," V put in.

I turned to Ian then as V handed my phone back to me. "I think I'd like a moment alone with Ian and Trevor, please," I said stoically.

Everybody else in the room immediately shuffled off to the kitchen, and pretended to be involved in other things, but I knew full well that they were listening in. I stood there for a moment, waiting for the tension to ebb, but it did not, and as my twin stared at me, I saw that he was trying to see into my mind, but I kept him on the restricted access path. Seeing no other way out if this, I mutely handed my phone over to him, knowing that any reaction at this point would be an authentic one.

"Murph, is this real?" Ian asked.

I gave a stiff nod. "Yeah."

Ian turned immediately to Trevor then, a look I'd never seen before crossing his face. "You want to tell me what the fuck this is about?!" he demanded, jamming the phone into Trevor's face, his tone laced with anger.

Trevor looked uneasy then as he read the text message, before turning on me. "I said from day one that you ruined everything, Murph."

"And I said from day one that I didn't expect for you to be my best friend," I replied, crossing my arms. "Guess that's all officially been shot in the face."

"Trev, this is my sister—my twin sister—and you fucking turned her in for corresponding with Mickey, who is the father of Iana?!" Ian demanded, and handed my phone back to me. "What the fuck is the matter with you?! I don't understand any of this..."

"You don't understand? Jesus, Ian," Trevor said, shaking his head. "You always made it clear from day one that you loved Murphy more than you loved me."

Ian shook his head. "What are you talking about?!"

"You always need to know if Murphy's okay," Trevor went on. "It's always 'Murphy this' or 'Murphy that'. And then after Mickey came into the mix, it all became too much to handle. It all became too much for me to handle..."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I caught Murphy," he said, and I quickly pressed the record button on my phone without thinking twice. "I pretended that I had to write a fucking speech, and pretended that there was a system malfunction on the company computers. Then, I said that I needed to use her laptop, and she fucking let me! Then I searched her computer, and accessed the private documents she'd found about Mickey's whereabouts," he said, and Ian immediately looked at me, and I sighed, knowing that this would come up somehow. "So, I downloaded them onto my flash drive and took it to police."

"Out of jealousy?" Ian asked.

Trevor shrugged. "So what?"

"So what?!" Ian demanded. "So, you're better than that, Trev! Or, at least, I thought you were better than that," he said, automatically moving to step away from him, as I switched off the recorder.

Trevor looked nervous then. "What does that mean?"

"It means we're done," Ian said, and I stiffened as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm saying I'm choosing Murphy."

I turned and looked at him. "You don't mean that..."

"No, he fucking doesn't," Trevor replied, looking at Ian imploringly. "Don't do this, Ian. You know it's not what you want."

"I'll always want my family, Trevor," Ian said, his voice cutting. "I'm sick and tired of people up and deciding what it is I want and don't want. I want my sister, and if you can't deal with that, then get the hell out of my house."

Trevor hesitated for a moment before turning around and walking out without one glance back at either of us.

Ian turned to look at me then. "So, you found out where Mickey was?" he asked.

. . .

It was the third Monday in September when the charges were finally dropped completely, and I was given permission to return to the firm. Iana was in her second year of preschool, and the boys were still in daycare during the day. One thing that I'd gained since my arrest was a new friend, in the rarest way possible. His name was Detective Tommy Matthews, and he worked in a different department from Mason, but Mason knew who he was.

"Just don't know what you see in him," Nicholas said as we were in a quarterly meeting on my first day back at work, attempting to sift through old cases where some of the inmates had died and, therefore, could be regulated to the deceased file folders.

I shrugged. "He's nice," I replied. "And doesn't mind hearing about my night in jail over and over again," I replied, my tone clipped.

"If you ask me, I think he gets off on it," my husband replied. "Probably fantasizes that you're jailbait or something..."

I raised my eyebrows to him then, and waited until his gaze locked with mine. "My, my, Blomqvist, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

Nicholas immediately looked away. "Not jealous," he replied quickly, in an attempt to assure me otherwise. "Just concerned for my wife."

"Well, you don't need to be jealous," I said diplomatically, shuffling some paperwork on an old case and putting it into the deceased file folder. "You've got nothing to worry about when it comes to Tommy and me."

"Yeah?" Nicholas asked, sticking his pencil into his mouth for a moment as he attempted to organize a few things. "Why?" he asked, whipping it out again.

I grinned across the table at him. "Because he's not my type," I replied.

Nicholas nodded, acknowledging that for a moment, almost as if he was attempting to see reason in some shape or form. "Well, you'll just do what you want anyway..."

I sighed, leaning back in the chair and just staring at him for a moment. Ever since I'd gone to jail and had the charges ultimately dropped, things were definitely different between me and my husband, and it wasn't just because of my visits with Tommy. I could sense that there was something else, lurking just beneath the surface, that he wasn't telling me—and wasn't planning on telling me—at least, for now. As I'd attempted to pick away at his mind over the rest of the summer in an attempt to figure out what was bothering him, it had gone nowhere, and could have eventually led to fights if we'd let it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, suddenly remembering that it was my turn to talk. "I don't always do what I want, Nicholas. Clearly, you should know that."

He raised his eyes to mine. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that I can't just hop on a plane and go anywhere—like Europe," I said, thinking of one of the few places I'd been keen to see.

Nicholas looked surprised. "Europe?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I mean, I was born here, raised in Seattle, and I've been to California once and Mexico twice and then Florida... That's it," I replied, spreading my hands. "I'm not saying that I'm a prisoner here, Nicholas, but having kids comes with restrictions, ones that I never accounted for."

Nicholas nodded. "I suppose that's true."

I smiled. "I wouldn't change it for anything—I love our kids, I love our life. But there are just certain things that normal people in their twenties can do that I can't."

"Do you want to go to Europe?"

I scoffed. "Maybe someday, when the kids are older and can fend for themselves a bit," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "Not for a while, though, and I'm all right with that."

"So, you want to go to Europe," Nicholas said, setting down his pencil and leaning back in his chair then, mulling it over. "That's a pretty big want."

"Which is why I can wait for it, because the best things in life are worth waiting for," I said simply to him. "And I'm happy to wait for it. I know we'll get there eventually. Besides, I'm only twenty-five."

Nicholas sighed. "Yeah. The best things in life are worth waiting for."

I leaned forward then, tapping my pencil against the stack of documents that had been assigned to me, not understanding what my husband was getting at. "And what does that mean?" I asked him, attempting to keep my tone reserved.

Nicholas massaged his temples for a moment, obviously taking great care in formulating his words before he spoke. "We haven't spoken about it much, since..."

"You can say it," I said, my tone gentle. "Since my arrest."

His shoulders slacked then, and I could see then that he was very serious about this. "I meant what I said...before the arrest..."

I blinked, still unsure as to what his meaning was, and hoping beyond hope that this was the underlying thing that had been bothering him. "What?" I asked him. "Tell me, Nicholas. What do you want?"

"I want to know if you're open to having another baby," he replied then, staring at me, and I felt myself get to my feet then.

"We've discussed this," I tell him, my tone clipped. "Once the twins are over two, we can talk about it again. But now," I said, spreading my hands, "I'm not ready."

Nicholas sighed. "What if now is the best we've got?" he asked.

I felt something shift inside me then. "Nicholas? What's going on?"

"Forget it," he said, obviously thinking he'd said too much. "We've got a lot of work to do here, Murphy, so we'd better get it done before it's too late."


	2. The Sweetness and the Sorrow

Chapter Two: The Sweetness and the Sorrow

Two days later, I was in my office looking over some old trial transcripts and feeling frightfully bored with it. Ever since the boys were born, Hugo and Allie hadn't given me any meaty cases to work on, and I was growing frustrated with the menial tasks handed to me, which were barely enough for a paralegal or a summer intern. Shaking my head, I continued working until around noon, which is when I got a text from Fiona.

Setting aside my own notes, I picked up my phone and gazed at it. "Well, why didn't you just call me?" I mutter to myself when I read her text, pressing down the number three and listening to the rings. "Fi. Hey."

"Hey, Murph," she replied, her voice a combination of giddy and uneasy. "Do you have any plans for lunch?"

I sighed. "Nope," I replied. "No plans."

"Great!" she said enthusiastically—too enthusiastically. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come by the diner?"

I dragged my free hand through my hair as I considered her question. All of us were against the notion that she had taken Jimmy back over the summer, and the pair of them were literally joined at the hip. After everything he'd done—of which I'd heard detailed accounts from all my siblings, save Liam, who didn't remember Jimmy much—I was surprised that someone as fierce as Fiona would throw away her willpower for someone like him...

"Murph?" Fiona asked, her voice nervous. "You there?"

I cleared my throat then, and my older sister quickly sighed in relief on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I'm here, Fi," I replied. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Thank you, Murph," she replied, cutting the call.

I got to my feet, taking my blazer from the back of my chair and putting it on, before attempting to organize the paperwork into each correct file folder. Next, I grabbed my bag, and phone, which I kept in my hand as I crossed my office, flipping off the light as I opened the door. I stepped out into the hallway and pulled my door closed behind me, making my way down the corridor and towards Rachel's desk.

"Going out for lunch?" she asked.

"Meeting Fiona at the diner," I replied. "And I'm swinging by to pick up Iana afterwards, so I'm finished for the day."

Rachel nodded. "Of course."

"See you tomorrow," I called over my shoulder. I stepped into the area with the elevators and pressed the 'down' button, accessing my texting app next and informing Nicholas that I was leaving early to meet Fiona before picking up Iana. I smiled to myself as he replied, as I stepped into the elevator, letting me know that he would pick up the boys on his way home later that afternoon, and I thanked him.

I walked out into the parking garage when I arrived, going towards my car at a steady clip, and fished the keys out from my pocket, unlocking it automatically. I got inside, pulling the door shut behind me and positioned my bag carefully on the passenger seat as I buckled up and started up the ignition. As I pulled out of the garage, I found the most direct route to the diner at the given lunch hour, and went straight there.

Pulling up in front, I grabbed my bag and got out of the car, slamming my door shut before I made my way towards the entrance. I stepped inside then, and the various members of the staff greeted me, and Fiona popped out from the back at all the commotion. I regarded my older sister then; she looked tired, and seemed to have lost a good five pounds, but most of all, her dark brown eyes appeared nervous.

"Fi?" I asked, stepped forward. "You okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on my arm. "Let's talk in my office," she suggested, turning around and heading there.

"Fi, you're scaring me," I said as we headed back together. "Just tell me straight out—was there a familial accident of some kind? Did Frank finally fucking die?"

Fiona turned halfway towards me then as we arrived at her office, and I detected a glimmer of a smirk as she shut the door behind me. "Sit down," she said, and I noticed that she had moved a second chair into her office that day, but I did as she said. "I know there's been tension between all of us since I got back with Jimmy," she began.

I crossed my arms. "Yeah, no shit," I replied, and she lowered her eyes. "Fi, I want you to be happy, really I do, but Jimmy... He has a criminal background..."

"So does Nicholas!" she cried, already on the offensive.

I scoffed. "Uh, yeah, but he turned his life around!"

"So did Jimmy!"

"Yeah, after he lied to you about who he was, and ran off and married a mobster's daughter!" I said, throwing up my hands.

Fiona leaned back and crossed her arms. "The marriage is over..."

"Fi, don't delude yourself," I said, and her eyes snapped to mine. "Please. Don't go getting in over your head here..."

For the first time since I'd seen her that day, Fiona unclasped her hands, and I saw what appeared to be an engagement ring on her finger. "Jimmy's gotten a job offer at a new hospital in New York," she said softly.

I crossed my arms. "Okay... And you believe this?"

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Yes. He had the interview last weekend and I went with him," she said, obviously annoyed.

I leaned back in my chair. "That an engagement ring?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. He asked me after the interview." Her face takes on an entirely new expression then—happiness, a euphoric kind of happiness that I'd seldom seen emanating from my older sister. "We were walking through Central Park, just talking about the possibility of him taking the job, and he said that the only way he would is if I'd come with him, and be his wife, and be Fiona Lishman."

I shook my head at her. "I don't believe this..."

"I said 'yes'," she said, and my eyes lock onto hers as I see her staring at the ring, with a simple diamond upon it. "I love him, Murphy. I never fell out of love with him..." She sighed then and raised her eyes to mine. "You know, I had the opportunity to run away with him—a couple of times," she said, and shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't do it, because of the kids, but now I can break free and do something for myself."

I felt my fingers curling back into my palms, the nails biting the soft skin within. "And what does everyone else think?"

"Oh, they don't know yet."

I let out a scoff as I looked back up at her. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I demanded. "You expect me to believe that you told me before our siblings—siblings that you raised—or V, your best friend?"

Fiona sighed. "You're my sister, and because I didn't get to raise you, and because you always had to hear our stories second-hand, I figured your number was up to be first."

I placed my face into my hands then, dragging my palms down it until they came to rest just beneath my chin. "So, let me get this straight," I said, "you said yes, which means Jimmy's taking the job, which means that you're moving to New York with him?"

Fiona gave a nod as I raised my eyes to hers. "Exactly."

"Jesus, Fi," I whispered, shaking my head. "I just don't know what to say right now. I mean, why are you even telling me here—like this—at Patsy's? Was it so urgent that you just had to let me know now?"

"I actually have other motives here," she said, and I turned to look at her.

I spread out my hand. "Okay. Tell me."

She bit her lip. "Well, I wanted to tell you here because I won't be here anymore. You told me that you haven't gotten a case since before you announced you were pregnant with the boys. If I can say it, Murph, I think you're getting tired of the lawyer gig."

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well, in that case, I want to hand over Patsy's to you," she said, and my mouth fell open. "I want to keep it in the family, of course, and you have a head for strategy, which is just as good as having a hand for business."

I shook my head at her in shock. "Fi, you can't be serious!"

"Why not?" she asked, grinning at me. "I can trust you. Who better than to leave my business to than my little sister?" she asked.

I stammered for a moment, the English language failing me. "But, Fi, don't you think the rest of the Gallagher kids could be mad?" I asked. "I mean, sure, we know who I am, but there could be some resentment..."

"Hey, Liam's too young, so he's out automatically," Fiona replied. "Carl's shipped out and gone, and he won't be back for four years unless he's injured beyond repair, or he re-enlists. Debbie's too busy welding to help out anyway, and she hates the smell of oil in her clothes. Ian loves being an EMT too much to be bothered by all the rules and regulations of owning and running a restaurant. And Lip... Well, he's smart enough to do it, Murph, but he'd rather fix motorcycles than deal with an unsatisfied customer who asked for honey instead of sugar."

I mulled it over then, surprised at this opportunity just falling into my lap, all because of one thing: blood. "Seems like you've given it a lot of thought..."

She smiled. "I have."

"And if I say no?"

She sighed. "Well, I'll ask you to fill-in for me until a replacement can be found," she replied, and I felt my shoulders slacking.

"Do you need an answer now?"

"By midnight tonight if you'll fill in as manager, at least, until a more permanent arrangement can be put forth," she said steadily.

"Midnight?" I asked.

She smiled at me. "Jimmy and I are getting a red-eye to New York," she replied. "He helped me pack up the apartment over the weekend, and he flew back on Monday to get our new apartment settled. He's flying back in a couple of hours to meet me, and then we're going back together to start our new lives."

"This is happening so fast," I whispered.

Fiona nodded. "I know. But when you know, you know. I've been in this one place for years—the geographical location, I mean. I want to go places; the only place I've really been is Wisconsin, and that's because I was high on ecstasy at the time..."

I raised my eyebrows. "Now I know I never heard that story..."

"Lip will tell you about it," she replied with a smile as she got to her feet. "Remember," she went on as I got to my feet, "by midnight tonight, let me know if you'll take over as manager, because someone has to keep the ship running around here."

I gave her a nod. "Sure," I said, managing somehow to leave her office and walk mechanically into the fray of the restaurant. I dodged around the waitstaff and overbearing customers, making my way out the door and into the fall day, which had suddenly turned slightly nippy. I got into my car, checking the time, and making a call to Iana's school, asking if she could please remain in the play hours that the preschool program offered for just a little longer, and they graciously accepted my request.

. . .

" _How do you think Frank will react?" I wanted to know._

 _Fiona scoffed at that. "Who gives a fuck how he'll react?"_

 _I shrugged. "I don't know. He's our father. I guess having a father is something I never really figured out how to have. With Martin, him walking out when I was five... I don't know. Maybe it's good not to have a father. I could've had you, Fi, and I could've helped, but I wasn't here, and I'm so sorry I couldn't be..."_

 _Fiona immediately straightened up and yanked me into her arms without hesitation. "I don't give a fuck about the past, Scarlett," she said, using my full name, and it felt odd, somehow. "You're my fucking sister, and we're not letting you go again."_

 _I gripped Fiona tightly, tempted to hold her to that. "I'm so glad you're taking this well," I replied, feeling the hot tears in my eyes again. "I don't know what I would've done if, somehow, you were against it..."_

 _Fiona pulled back then, looking at me. "I want you to listen to me, Scarlett, and listen to me good, do you hear me?"_

 _I nodded. "I do."_

" _I want you to know that you are one of us, no matter what anyone says," she said, her arms positioned firmly on my shoulders. "A piece of paper—I don't even need to see it—won't prove to me what I already know. And what I know is that you're my fucking sister, and, due to some pretty fucked up circumstances beyond our control, you were taken away from us and, now that we've found you, and you've found us, you're a fucking Gallagher, and you're a fucking Gallagher for life."_

 _I laughed aloud then. "I feel like a fucking Gallagher," I replied. "Davies just sounded so fake to me, and the Gallagher's are real—we're real, Fi."_

 _Fiona yanked me back into her arms. "You're damn right we're real, Scar," she said, holding me for a moment before pulling back again. "Come on. Let's tell everyone else." She put her arm around my shoulders again, leading me back inside and as we stepped over the threshold, I was relieved that I didn't hear Ian and Lip fighting anymore._

. . .

I just sat there for several minutes, unmoving, when I finally got a stroke of genius of some kind which kicked me into high gear. I pulled out of the spot and drove across town, to Ian's work, and parked right outside. I grabbed my bag again and got out of my car, slamming the door a little bit too hard as I rounded the vehicle and got onto the sidewalk. Feeling slightly shaken—whether it was from Fiona's news or the coldness of the day—I stepped inside the place and noticed that the front desk was unoccupied. Shrugging it off, I went to the ambulance holding area, where I spotted Ian doing inventory.

"Ian."

At my voice, my twin immediately turned around and smiled at me. "Hey," he said, setting down his clipboard and climbing down. "Wasn't expecting you," he went on, pulling me in for a hug, but he quickly detected my stiffness and pulled back, holding me at arms'-length. "Murph? Is something going on?"

I gave him a nod. "Oh, yeah."

Ian regarded me then, his brow furrowed in concern. "Okay. Wanna talk about it?"

I sighed, wanting nothing more than to wake up screaming from this supposed nightmare. "Can we sit?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ian said, keeping an arm around my shoulders and sitting me down on the step of the ambulance. "What's on your mind?" he asked, sitting beside me.

I swallowed then, my fingers knotting up upon themselves as I mulled over the last conversation I'd had with our sister. "I was at the firm this morning and Fiona called me," I said, finding that my voice took on an annoyed air as I said her name.

Ian squeezed my shoulder—he was just as pissed at her recent-decision-making as I was. "And what did she want?"

"She had some pretty big news..."

"That's never good," Ian replied. "Let's hear it."

I turned to look at Ian then, and found that, despite everything, I was doing my damnedest not to lose it completely. "Fi's marrying him," I whispered.

Ian looked at me like I was crazy. "You're joking."

"No," I replied, my voice wavering somewhere between rage and devastation. "She wanted me there so that she could tell me that, but it wasn't the only thing..."

Ian got to his feet and began pacing. "What else could there be?"

"Jimmy got a job offer in New York, at a new hospital," I replied, dashing the tears from my eyes and hating myself for getting emotional. "He said that the only way he'd take it is if Fiona would go with him, as his wife. Or, I guess, fiancée, because they're not married yet, and she didn't tell me when this wedding is supposed to happen..."

"Jesus Christ," Ian whispered.

"So, she said yes, and Jimmy's taking the job, so they're going..."

"When?" Ian asked, turning back to look at me then. "When are all these joyous things supposed to be happening?"

"Midnight."

Ian looked shocked. "Excuse me?"

"They're getting a red-eye to New York."

"You must be joking..."

I shook my head. "Not me—Fi is the one who must be joking. She's the one who called me down to the fucking diner to tell me all this..."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Ian said, knotting his fingers into his hair. "And what's supposed to happen to the diner? Is it just supposed to disappear?"

"No," I said, crossing my arms. "That's the weirdest thing..."

Ian scoffed. "Nothing about this so far hasn't been weird..."

I rolled my eyes. "Get ready for it, Ian, because Fiona wants me to quit my job at the firm and take over as owner of Patsy's."

Ian stopped his pacing then and allowed his eyes to snap to mine. "You?"

I threw up my hands. "Me. Can't think why."

Ian shook his head. "Probably because Fi thinks you're the smartest one out of all of us... Or because you've pissed her off the least."

I leaned back against the door of the ambulance. "That's not fair, and you know it. Monica allowed me to be kidnapped when I was born. If that hadn't happened, I would've been raised right beside you...probably would've been competing with Mandy for the position as your best friend, too..."

Ian smirked. "You're nothing like Mandy."

I raised my eyebrows. "Trust me, I'm plenty like Mandy."

Ian crossed his arms. "How do you figure?"

I scoffed, looking away from him. "Trust me, Ian, you don't want to go there..."

"No, I want to go there," he said as I turned back to him. "Tell me how you're like Mandy and I'll drop it."

"Okay," I said, leaning forward. "Because we're both your best friend. Because we're not afraid to get into someone's face if they fuck with our family. Oh, and because we've both fucked Lip at least once," I reply.

Ian covered his ears and grinned at me. "Aaah! Stop! No! Don't say it!" he said, bursting out laughing then.

"Hey, you asked," I replied as he took his hands off his ears.

Ian shook his head. "Fucking Fiona, man..."

"You know I think we need to talk to Lip," I said, and Ian looked at me. "Since Fi's so dead-set on leaving, he's going to be the resident oldest Gallagher sibling in the Chicago area, and his word will mean law soon enough..."

Ian mulled it over then before checking his phone. "My shift is over in ten anyway," he said, thinking it over. "I'll go ask my boss if I can cut out early."

I raised my eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Hey, Fiona's leaving at midnight," Ian replied, "so our time is short as it is. We need to figure out this shit..."

I nodded, getting to my feet. "Okay. But we have to pick up Iana first."

"Deal," Ian replied.

Once I got the okay from Ian's boss to kidnap him, we got into my car and immediately headed for Iana's preschool. I went inside, the pleasure I got from Iana spotting me and running to me never getting old. I thanked the instructors before heading outside, and Iana bounced in my arms when she saw that Ian was riding shotgun. I put my daughter into her booster seat, kissing her forehead before strapping her in and shutting the door.

"Is this a happy surprise?" I asked Iana as I got into the car.

"Yes!" Iana cried.

I smiled as we pulled out from my parking space. "We're going to see Uncle Lip at work right now," I explained as we drove the route, unfamiliar to her.

"Lippy!" Iana chanted.

Ian and I shared a smirk as we drove, making our way to the repair shop in good time and getting out of the car. Ian took it upon himself to fetch Iana, while I promptly headed inside and looked over the showroom. Spotting Lip in his uniform, he was underneath the beast of a bike, and I found I could only name two kinds of motorcycles, gun to my head, and vowed never to discuss them directly with his co-workers as I stepped forward.

"Lip."

Lip promptly rolled out from beneath the bike, looking surprised to see me, and Ian and Iana, who were just behind me. "Hey," he said, getting off his back and onto his feet. "Murph, Ian, Iana... To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Can you take a break so we can talk?" I asked.

Lip sighed, pulling a rag from his pocket and attempting to get some oil spots off his fingers. "I don't know... It's been slow today, but I had yesterday off..."

"For fuck's sake, Lip! It's an emergency!" I cried out then, and his co-workers turned around to stare at us. "Stop being a fucking pussy and man up, because our sister is engaged to be married and leaving for New York at midnight!"

Lip dropped the rag he was holding and stared at me for his eyes slid over to Ian. "Is she fucking with me right now?"

"No," Ian replied, shaking his head as I took Iana from him. "Fiona called her to the diner during her lunch hour and pretty much spelled it out for her. Then she came and told me, and now we're here telling you because she thought we should..."

"Because you're going to be the oldest once she gets on that plane at midnight," I said, and Lip turned back and looked at me. "You're going to be the older sibling that everyone runs to with all their shit. I know it's a lot, but you need to trust me when I tell you this, Lip—you're ready, and I know you can handle it."

Lip looked shocked before he turned to Ian. "You're not actually going to let Murph support Fiona's move and engagement to Jimmy?!" he demanded then, before he turned and looked at me again. "Wait. She is marrying Jimmy, right?"

I scoffed. "Yes, Lip. He fucking proposed to her in Central Park after this job interview he had in New York at this hospital. He said some flowery shit or something and then told her that the only way he'd take the job was if she came with him."

"Jesus," Lip whispered, shaking his head. "Of all things to happen..."

"That's not the bottom line," Ian put in.

"Yeah?" Lip asked, lowering his eyes to where he had dropped the rag, and bent to retrieve it before attempting to get the oil off his fingertips again. "What else is there?"

"Fi asked me to take Patsy's," I replied in the silence that followed, which I could tell from that Ian wanted me to give Lip this information.

"You?!" Lip demanded.

I gave him a nod. "Yeah. Me. For some reason."

Lip scoffed. "Probably because you've pissed her off the least..."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, the next one of my siblings who says that is in deep shit," I replied, wanting more than anything to put my hands on my hips and to lay down the law with the two of them. Maybe now that Fiona was leaving, I'd have to be the voice of reason... "The point is, I'd likely have to give up my job at the firm, and I don't know if I'm even willing to consider doing something like that..."

"It's an entirely new lifestyle," Lip said, nodding then as he absorbed the information. "I mean, do you even want to own a restaurant?"

"Fi wants me to manage it for the time being, and then I would have to let her know at some point in the near future if I want to take it over completely..."

Lip gave a nod to that. "When do you have to let her know?"

"By midnight, when her flight supposedly takes off, and when I turn back into a pumpkin," I joke then, pulling Iana closer to me. "Just don't know if I can handle it, you guys. Fiona leaving us... It's going to hurt..."

Ian put an arm around my shoulders. "But we'll get through it."

I turned and looked at him. "Will we?" I asked him.

. . .

" _Murph, talk to me," she said as I went into my bedroom to make a grab for a towel. "I know something went down at the hospital last night, so why don't you just tell me?"_

" _Why?" I demanded, turning on her. "So you can apologize profusely about how you were there for me for probably five fucking minutes before you went home?!"_

 _Fiona looked shocked at my words, the same expression locked onto her face as I pushed past her and into the hall, towards the bathroom. "That's not how it happened, Murph," she said quietly, desperation being ladled into her tone. "The doctors said that you wouldn't wake up for hours, and that they'd call me when you woke up..." She dove into her pocket then, checking her phone. "No missed calls..."_

" _I told them not to call you," I reply, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me in a quick gesture. I moved to get out of my old clothes then, throwing them around the room before I began hanging them on a spare space on a towel rack. The door came thundering open then, and Fiona stood there, her dark eyes blazing, and I immediately held up my towel. "Jesus, what the fuck is the matter with you?!" I demanded._

" _Why the fuck would you tell the hospital not to fucking call me?!" she demanded, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm your fucking sister!"_

" _Yeah, you're my sister—nothing to be done about that now," I replied, crossing my arms to keep the towel in place._

" _Fuck, Murph!" she cried out, throwing her hands into the air. "Why didn't you have them call me?! That's all I want to know!"_

 _I stepped forward then, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Because I needed Ian," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, although it shook. "It was my goddamn hour of need, Fiona, and I needed my fucking twin, not my fucking sister."_

" _Your hour of need?" Fiona whispered. "What are you talking about?"_

 _I sighed, which quickly morphed into a small combination of a laugh and a scoff as I lowered my eyes against her look. "I fucking lost the baby, Fiona," I said quietly._

" _Oh, Murphy," Fiona said, moving to embrace me. "I'm so sorry."_

" _Thanks," I said, pulling back before she can hug me. "I really appreciate that. Now, if you could just announce to the family that fucking Frank was right again, that would be awesome because, right now, I have to take a shower, get changed, pack a bag, buy Ian a new cell phone, and get back to him," I say, turning around._

" _Murphy, you don't want to go all the way back to the hospital, do you?"_

 _I sigh, turning on the shower before turning back to face her. "Yeah, I actually fucking do," I replied, hating myself for being so hard, but knew it was the only thing keeping me in check. "I need a distraction, Fiona, and I need to be with Ian. It's a twin thing," I said, shrugging it off, knowing that she would never fully understand._

. . .

As I drove back to the house that afternoon, memories of my significant and insignificant times with my sister came flooding back. Scratch that—they were _all_ significant now, now that we all stood to lose her, potentially forever. Ian got Iana out of the car for me, handing her over before he hugged us both before heading across the street. I grabbed my bag and Iana's before heading into the house, setting her up in front of the T.V., knowing that it wasn't the most beneficial thing for her, but also knowing that I had to prepare for the inevitable.

I got out my phone then, pressing down number one and listening to the rings. "Hey, Nicholas," I said when he picked up.

"Murph? You okay?"

I sighed, my shoulders deflating as I turned and walked out of the den and into the living room at the front of the house. "Not really, Nicholas, no."

"Well, as your husband, I think that I should know what's wrong..."

"Went to see Fiona today," I replied, sinking onto the couch. "She called me around noon and told me that she needed to see me."

"Okay," Nicholas replied. "And what happened?"

"Jimmy got a new job offer in New York at this new hospital," I said carefully. "After the interview, Fiona went with him for a walk through Central Park. While they were there, he asked her to marry him."

"Jesus," Nicholas said.

"Yeah," I said, scoffing ever so slightly. "Anyhow, Jimmy said that he wouldn't take the job unless Fiona came with him and married him. She said yes."

"Wow," my husband replied, obviously shocked.

"So, she accepted, and they're moving," I said quietly. "Jimmy found them an apartment already, and they packed up her place over the weekend. He's got them all moved in out there, and then he's flying back at some point today so that they can fly over at midnight."

"So soon..."

"Which brings me to my next point," I said, feeling unsteady. "Fiona called me to the diner and told me first because she wants me to take over for her."

There was a silence on the other end of the phone before Nicholas replied, "Oh."

"She wants me to let her know by midnight if I'll serve as manager until they can find someone better-suited, or if I'll be willing to take over long-term."

"Are you considering it?"

I sighed. "I don't know," I replied. "I definitely don't get as much satisfaction out of being a lawyer that I used to. Being regulated to clerical work is not what I signed up for, Nicholas, and I'm tired of fighting... I don't want to fight anymore."

"So, what are you saying?" he asked.

I smiled. "I think I need to call my sister," I replied. "I'll see you when you get home with the boys, and we can talk later." I hung up the phone then, pressing the number three and waiting for her to pick up. "Fi?"

"Murph," she said, obviously relieved to hear my voice.

"Can you come by?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied. "Be there in twenty."

I brought Iana upstairs for a nap to make sure that we weren't disturbed; I knew that such a thing was cruel, as she would want to say goodbye to her aunt, but I would give Fiona the option to go upstairs before she left. When I heard her car outside, I walked to the door and pulled it open, and waited on the porch for her. She got out of her car and shut it, locking it before coming onto the sidewalk and making her way towards me.

"Hey," she said.

I smiled at her. "Hey," I replied.

. . .

 _One afternoon, Lip told me just to drive for a while and, at the end of it, we ended up at a park down a quiet street. Perplexed, we got out of the car and walked towards it, where a woman was sitting at a picnic table and, as we approached, turned around and grinned at Lip, getting to her feet._

" _Hey!" she said, going to him immediately and throwing her arms around him. "This is a surprise! What are you doing here?"_

" _Sorry, Fi, had to keep it a surprise," Lip replies, pulling back, and placing an arm around my waist, which made my skin tingle._

 _The woman turned her dark brown eyes to mine; she had dark, wavy hair to match, and looked at me expectantly. "You must be Scarlett—can't believe I'm finally meeting you," she said with a smile, putting out her hand. "I'm Fiona."_

" _Fiona!" I said, a little too loudly, and my face immediately bloomed with regret as I took her offered hand and shook it. "So nice to meet you."_

" _Lip says that you're something special," she says as we finish shaking hands. "He says you're a victim of bad parenting, too."_

" _Fi!" Lip said, his voice a hiss._

 _I laughed aloud then, leaning into Lip. "No, Lip, it's fine, really," I told him. "I always tell Lip that I wish I had an amazing big sister to help me out, but..." I shrugged. "Just wasn't in the cards for me, I guess."_

" _Lip says you pretty much raised yourself?" Fiona asks as we move to sit._

" _Since I was about seven, yeah," I reply, feeling a rush of something as Lip places his hand upon my knee, unseen by Fiona, although I suspect she suspects something._

" _Law textbooks helped, I assume?" she asks, smiling._

 _I laughed. "Yeah, I mean, my mom had three sons with her second husband so I pretty much slipped through the cracks on the whole parental loving department."_

" _But not in the educational one, I see!" Fiona says, grinning. "A Master's in Criminal Justice at twenty-one! That's impressive."_

 _I lower my eyes to the table. "And a minor in psychology," I say with a grin._

" _Shut up!" Fiona says, slapping the table, and my eyes dart to hers, but I see that she is grinning from ear to ear. "Lip is quite the intelligent one, too. I see you've found something in common with this one, little brother."_

 _Lip sighed. "Yeah, well, most girls don't fall for the smart guys..."_

 _I bite my lip, turning to look over at him. "I'm starting to," I replied._

 _Lip immediately turns to look at me, his eyes widening at my sudden declaration to him. "Wait, really?" he asks, seemingly shocked._

 _I laughed again then, attempting to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation as I bumped his shoulder with mine. "Well, yeah," I replied._

" _You guys are so cute, I can't stand it," Fiona declared, smiling at the two of us. "Please tell me you're not crazy..."_

 _Lip locks eyes with Fiona then, and Fiona immediately looks as if she regrets saying something to that affect. "Fi..." Lip whispers to her._

 _Fiona turns red and lowers her eyes. "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have..."_

 _I sighed, feeling my shoulders hunching forward as they often did when I felt even remotely self-conscious as I grew up. "Sorry to disappoint," I replied._

" _Oh," Fiona said, obviously disappointed in herself, or in my answer._

" _I'm not, like, certifiable or anything," I said, feeling insecure. "I mean, I'm not going to suddenly strip naked and run down the street or anything..."_

" _That's a relief," Lip put in._

" _But there are days when I don't want to get out of bed in the morning," I say quietly, and Fiona quickly looks over at Lip, a bewildered expression on her face. "But I force myself to. I guess I'm wired a certain way, I don't know..." I shrug._

" _What is it?" Fiona asked, her voice quiet. "What you've got?"_

 _I place my hand on Lip's shoulder as he starts to protest. "It's fine, Lip," I said gently, before turning back to Fiona. "He told me about Monica, so you've got every right to be concerned." I sighed, wanting the dust to settle for a moment. "It's major depression and high anxiety," I replied, remembering the day in the therapists' office during the diagnosis. "I was twelve-years-old and in my sophomore year of high school. Of course something was going to happen to me psychologically one day..."_

" _You seem to work through it well," Fiona says softly. "I mean, two degrees, and you've got a high-paying job lined up. Not everyone can say that about themselves."_

 _I nodded. "Work distracts me, I'll admit," I tell her. "I found the pressure of doing assignments throughout my school career was able to combat the symptoms of my illnesses in a positive way and so I kept up with the vigorous routine. I didn't really think about anything beyond school but when it came time to declare a major, I just went with what I knew. It wasn't too difficult; hell, I even got into trouble sometimes for correcting the professors..."_

 _Fiona grins. "Bet they didn't like that very much."_

 _I shook my head. "Fuck no," I replied, and Fiona's grin widened. "Thankfully, I don't think they believed I was doing it to be malicious. Plus, my stepfather donated a wing or something to the university, so they didn't want to piss off my family. Although I wouldn't know what would've happened to me if I supposedly did something wrong and was caught..."_

 _A shadow was cast over Fiona's face then as she fully absorbed my meaning. "You don't... Do you think that your mother's husband would've... Hurt you?"_

 _I shrugged. "I don't know. He never was a predictable person. He basically just ignored me, and didn't seem to care when I moved into a dorm on campus. I had a handful of conversations with him throughout his marriage to my mother, and they all revolved around my education. He did present me with a list of acceptable career choices—doctor, lawyer, teacher, things like that—but he didn't have any parameters. He said that as long as I picked something from the list, I could choose the section myself."_

" _So, he approved of your desire to become a lawyer?"_

 _I nodded. "Yes. Dr. Normal, my stepfather, gave a stiff nod when I told him, just a week after my senior year of high school began, what I wanted to do. He made some calls on my behalf and I got into the law program of the university close by."_

" _But you lived at home during college, some of it, at least?"_

 _I scoffed. "Yeah. Dr. Normal and my mother agreed that it would be inappropriate for me to begin living on my own until I turned eighteen. I didn't mind—they gave me pretty much everything I needed. Food, an allowance, and a car when I turned sixteen, during my freshman year of college. I guess the only thing they didn't think to give me was love, and time, but it didn't matter. Not in the end, at least."_

 _Fiona reached across the wooden table then, and, in an unexpected gesture, clasped my hand in hers, something that caught me momentarily off-guard. "I think you've got some loving to do here," she told me quietly. "Lip says you were from here?"_

" _Born and extracted, is more like it," I said ruefully, squeezing her hand back. "Adopted at three months and shipped off to Seattle."_

" _What about your adoptive father?"_

" _Martin," I replied, feeling strange at uttering his name. "Martin was a sought-after musician. I guess you could call him a rock star..."_

" _Really? He's in a band?" Lip asked, sounding interested._

 _I nodded. "Yeah—sent a check every month until I was eighteen, so he wasn't a complete deadbeat, although my adoptive mother would have me believe otherwise." I found myself smiling for a moment. "In the six months before she met Dr. Normal—up until now—they were the happiest in my life."_

" _Really?" Fiona asks._

 _I nodded again. "Yeah, because I wasn't intelligent yet—at least, not overtly so. And my mother only had me to worry about. I think she resented me..."_

" _Why?" Lip wants to know._

" _Well, she had been told that children, for her at least, would be impossible to conceive naturally and so, after she married Dr. Normal, and had three sons with him, once a year, she began to see me as a set-back, I guess..."_

" _Bitch," Fiona muttered, and my eyes snapped to hers. "Sorry. She's still your mother. But she was acting like a bitch."_

 _I shook my head. "She's not my mother," I told her firmly. "From where I'm sitting, you're more qualified to be a mother than she ever was, and you raised your siblings. Like I said, it would've been nice to go through hell with somebody else, instead of braving it solo."_

" _Well, you must've come for a reason, other than just for a job, or to find love," she said, casting a knowing glance Lip's way._

 _I nodded. "Yeah. Just waiting for the call from the courthouse to get my records to see what's what when it came to my birth."_

 _Fiona sits back, crossing her arms. "Sounds like you have a mystery to solve."_

 _I nodded. "Mystery of a lifetime, Fiona," I replied._

. . .

Fiona crossed my yard then and climbed up the stairs of the porch, and I automatically found myself gravitating away from her, due to my devastation at her going. She looked hurt that, in the end, I seemed to be pulling away from her, when, at the beginning, I cleaved to her. "Don't act like this, Murph. Please."

"Why?" I whispered, the tears forming in my eyes again. "Why not?! Nicholas is my heart, and you and the rest of them are like my fucking limbs! This is literally like you're chopping one of my arms off, Fi..."

Fiona looked overcome with sadness then as she stepped forward, yanking me into her arms at full force, and my arms came around her then as I felt myself sobbing into her shoulder. "It's going to be all right," she whispered to me.

I held her tightly, never wanting to let her go. "I don't want you to go," I whispered, my voice quavering then. "I know you have to go. I know you have to see this through to the end. Fuck, I know you want to go, Fi..."

"I do want to go," she replied. "I love Jimmy, and I want to see if it's possible for the two of us to have a shot at a life together..."

I pulled back from her then, for once not completely hating myself for showing emotions. "I'm just going to miss you so fucking much," I whispered. "I never thought that saying goodbye to anyone would ever be so hard..."

Fiona smiled. "You know why it's hard, don't you?"

I scoffed then. "Come on, Fi. Of course I know why."

Fiona grinned at me. "It's means you love me, it means you love me!" she chanted, dancing around the porch then, wiggling her entire body, which made me laugh out loud. "Don't worry about it, Murph. I know you're all going to miss me."

I sighed, my shoulders slacking. "Look, I know I wasn't here for all the bullshit—the house arrest, and for you getting lost for a while... But you've gotta know by now that I would've given anything to be there, right, Fi?"

Fiona smiled. "Of course I do, Murph. We're family. Family knows this shit."

I smiled. "Good. I'm glad," I replied.

Fiona checked her phone then. "Jimmy's plane is landing in an hour. I promised I'd go to the airport and get him."

I nodded. "Okay. I'll walk you to your car."

Fiona smiled and wrapped her arm around my shoulder as we made our way down the steps. "I am going to miss you. All of you."

"Did you say goodbye to them?" I asked.

She sighed. "I'm sure you mentioned what was happening..."

"Ian and Lip know," I confirmed as we reached her car.

She nodded. "Okay. I'm sure you'll tell Debs and Liam, and find a way to tell Carl. And I'm sure Frank will find out somehow..."

I sighed. "Probably..."

"But I don't want to deal with their bullshit," she said then, and I raised my eyebrows. "They can't support my engagement or my move? Fine. But I don't want to hear it."

"Fi, you really should say goodbye..."

She shook her head. "I can't do that, Murph. I have to leave that part of my life behind." She hesitated for a moment then before pulling me back into her arms. "I really promise to miss you, Murph. And we'll talk on the phone. I promise."

I laughed. "Okay... And I'll take the manager job."

"Good," she replied. My sister pulled back from then, hesitated for a moment before giving me a swipe in the arm.

"Fiona!" I cried out, attempting and failing to dodge the blow. "Stop it!"

"I reserve the right to do that!" she said, her voice shaking slightly as our eyes locked, and she looked devastated for the first time. "I missed out on over twenty years of raising you, so you're damn right I'm going to make up for it now!"

I smiled, remembering our conversation when we mutually confirmed that we knew about my identity. "Thank you, Fi."

Fiona nodded. "You're welcome, Murph."

She pulled me into her arms one last time, before we finally broke away from one another and just allowed ourselves to smile at the other for a moment. Then, Fiona got into her car and pulled away from the curb, and I held onto myself then, a rush of cold wind keeping me on my toes. As I stepped out into the street, I caught a glimpse of the sunset just ahead, and the illusion it presented was that Fiona was driving off into it, to begin a new life, with a man she loves, and one that she felt she deserved.


	3. Strictly Platonic

Chapter Three: Strictly Platonic

I called in sick to work for the following day, and, once Nicholas came home, I found that I welcomed the distraction that the boys and Iana afforded us. I served dinner that evening—just a lasagna with garlic bread and a salad—and we made small talk, so as not to fight in front of the children. I anticipated a fight, so after we got them to bed, I headed downstairs, hoping that my husband would take the hint that maybe some space is what we needed right now. However, just a few moments later, I heard him coming down the stairs, and I felt my hackles automatically rising, hoping that he wouldn't attempt to talk me out of my decision-making.

"So, Fiona's really going, then?"

I sighed; so, he wanted to play it like that, did he? "Yeah," I replied, cleaning up the living room, wanting to create another distraction for myself. "The flight's in about four hours. She'll be starting her new life by tomorrow morning." I gathered up a stack of books and brought them to the children's bookshelf at the edge of the room. "Fiona, as a doctor's wife," I said, chuckling to myself as I attempted to organize them, knowing that they would be pulled unceremoniously off the shelves by the following day. "Who would've thought?"

Nicholas reached towards me then, placing his hand on the small of my back as I straightened up, and gently turned me around to face him. "Murph, I can see that you're not okay with this," he said quietly, and I deliberately looked away from him. "The others know about this, right? I mean, you must've told someone..."

I gave a stiff nod. "Yeah. I told Ian, and then we told Lip together," I reply. "We're going to come together soon to tell Debbie and Liam, and then we'll figure out some way to get out the information to Carl..."

"How are you feeling about all this?"

I shrugged, feeling uneasy at his hands on me then. "I don't know," I replied, forcing myself not to break down again. "I'm... I'm going to miss her, for sure..."

"She was the sibling after Ian that you were closest to," Nicholas replied, and my eyes snapped immediately to his. "Of course you were close to her. Especially because you weren't allowed to be raised with them, and now you see it as she's abandoning you, so soon after you were given the opportunity to be in their lives again..."

"Not abandonment," I replied, moving away from him—I couldn't take the physical contact, not right then. "Fiona wasn't abandoning me, she wouldn't do that—she wouldn't do that to any of us, Nicholas. She wouldn't..."

"Murph, it's okay..."

"Don't tell me what's okay," I said, attempting to keep my voice in check.

"Murph, please," Nicholas said, and I could sense the desperation in his tone. "We have to talk about this. About Fiona's leaving, about how it's affecting you, and about this job offer she's just handed to you..."

I crossed over to the front door then, making a grab for my leather jacket—I needed some air, and some time to process everything that had happened in the last ten hours. "I accepted the manager position of the diner," I replied, my voice firm, keeping my gaze away from Nicholas—I knew he would be angry, but I just didn't care right then. "I'm going out," I said, opening the front door and letting myself out. "I'll be back in a couple of hours..."

"Murphy..."

"Please," I said, my voice wavering slightly, as I focused on the splintering wood of the porch, illuminated in the light, which I now stood under. "Just give me some time. I want to be alone with my thoughts for a while," I said. I pulled the door shut behind me, and making my way down the steps at a steady clip. I saw my car, parked where I'd left it when I'd brought Iana home earlier that afternoon, and walked around it, heading directly to the house. I went through the gate, and the yard, and ran up the stairs, unlocking the door automatically and went inside, hanging up my leather jacket and shutting the door before I stepped into the living room. "Hey, little man," I said, spotting Liam watching T.V. "Finish your homework yet?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Murph. You don't live here anymore."

I scoffed, rubbing his hair as I walked by, and trying not to laugh as he moved away from me. "I might not, but I'm still your sister," I called over my shoulder. I stepped into the kitchen, and gave a cursory glance towards the fridge. I hesitated for a moment before I opened it, the bottles of beer calling my name. Although the warning bells went off immediately, I ignored them, waning my mind to be fuzzy then as I yanked one out of the fridge, slamming it on the edge of the counter, the bottle cap falling to the floor. "Are you here by yourself?" I asked Liam, bending to pick up the cap and tossing it into the trash.

Liam shrugged. "Guess so."

"Huh," I said, absorbing the reply as I shut the fridge and brought the bottle to my lips. I drank the amber-colored liquid, the burning sensation not leaving my throat as I returned into the living room. "Nobody's here to watch you?"

Liam looked annoyed. "I'm not a kid, Murph."

I nodded. "No, I know," I replied, sitting beside him, and removing my phone from the pocket of my jeans. "I know you're not a kid, Liam..." I sat there, beer in one hand, phone in the other, and quickly typed a message out to Ian. _Here at the place with Liam_. _You really think he's old enough to be home alone at night_?

"I know you're texting about me, Murph."

Automatically, I lowered my phone, my eyes rolling upwards as I just managed to press 'send' without Liam looking. "Yeah, but I'm your older sister," I said, turning to look at him for a moment with a smirk, taking a swig of beer, not liking the taste, but looking forward to the numbness that it would afford me later. "Cut me a little slack, okay?"

Liam muttered something incoherent then, and my phone buzzed a moment later, which told me that Ian was on his way back.

 _Have you thought of a way to tell Carl yet_? I asked, sending the message.

 _Not yet_ , Ian said, messaging me back a moment later. _Still thinking about it_. _Debs is on her way now_ ; _she got someone to watch Franny_. _Lip_ ' _s on his way_ , _too_.

"Great," I muttered to myself, taking another sip of liquid courage as I got to my feet, stretching my limbs as I considered what to say to Debbie and Liam, and how to get correspondence to Carl when he was likely thousands of miles away. I supposed that the most logical thing was contacting his commanding officer, or whoever found themselves in charge of him and his unit, and attempt to figure out a way to contact him from there...

The kitchen door opened then and I found myself standing motionless in the doorway, still keeping a good grip on the bottle as Lip stepped inside. I raised the bottle to him and he sighed, crossing over to me and taking it out of my hands before he swirled it around, contemplating, and handed it back to me. I raised my eyebrows at him then—I knew he wouldn't want to inadvertently blame his potential breakage of sobriety on Fiona's less-than-considerate way of leaving us, but I could see him thinking about it.

I sighed, watching as he slumped against the counter beside the stove and finished the bottle, throwing it into the designated bin before I crossed over to him. "Hey," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "don't do this to yourself."

Lip turned around then and yanked me into his arms, and proceeded to sob into my shoulder. "I just don't understand this..."

"Hey, neither to I," I replied, biting my lip, attempting to fight the tears that entered my eyes, but found I couldn't stop them—not anymore. "But sometimes we just know when something is the right thing to do for ourselves. It's not like she could stay forever. I mean, do you even think that we'll stay forever, Lip?"

My oldest brother sighed, pulling back and pushing the tears out of his eyes, leaning up against the counter. "I had the opportunity to get out, Murph. I fucked shit up so bad that I don't even think I deserve a second shot."

"Fucking authority, man," I muttered, crossing my arms. "They automatically think they have all the answers and that they know best. Trust me, they don't always."

We turned around then as the front door opened, and Ian stepped through the inner door and into the living room. He greeted Liam, who didn't look up from the T.V. once, and immediately crossed over into the kitchen when he noticed Lip and me standing there. He hesitated for a moment before he lifted his arms and dragged us both under one, holding us against him, and I could tell from his shaky breaths that my twin was crying as well.

"We are going to get through this," I whispered, placing my hand upon Ian's chest. "We've got to hold it together more than ever. We're the senior section of the Gallagher's now, gentleman, and we have to come together to tell Debbie and Liam what's going on, and figure out a way to get the information to Carl."

Lip gave me a look then as he moved out from underneath Ian's arm. "Who are you and what have you done to our sister, and when did you become a motivational speaker?" he demanded, before his face broke into a grin.

I shook my head at him, trying my best not to laugh. "I'm being serious here—or trying to be. I mean, we have a legacy, of a sorts, to uphold. We have to be there for Debs, Carl, and Liam, and god knows that Frank isn't going to step in anytime soon..." I looked from one brother to the other then, and raise my eyebrows. "Did you two say anything?"

Ian looked down at me. "I didn't," he said, making a face at the thought of attempting to have a conversation with our father. "You tell him, Lip?"

"Fuck no," Lip replied, getting a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it up. "I'm not touching that one."

I crossed my arms, leaning into Ian. "Maybe we can get Debs to tell him," I muttered, taking the cigarette from Lip and taking a drag. "God knows she's going to resent us for keeping this from her for several hours..."

Ian stole the cigarette next and took a long drag, mulling it over, as he kept his free arm around my shoulders in a protective manner. "She said the sitter was running late, when I last talked to her," he said quietly. "I'm surprised she could even get someone this quickly. She may end up just bringing Franny with her and putting her to bed upstairs..."

No sooner had Ian said that did Debbie burst in through the kitchen door, a half-asleep Franny in her arms. "Be right back," she said, kicking the door shut behind her, and carrying Franny up the stairs two at a time.

"Well, it's official," I said, snagging the cigarette back before Lip, and was rewarded with a momentary glare for it. I stuck it in my mouth then, inhaling the poison into my lungs and not caring much for the consequences connected to it anymore. "Ian is officially a wizard of some kind—a clairvoyant wizard."

"I kind of like the sound of that," Ian said with a smirk.

Lip rolled his eyes, grabbing the cigarette away from me before our brother could take it. "Just don't let it get into your head," Lip warned him.

Debbie came downstairs shortly thereafter, and Ian summoned Liam to the kitchen table, and we five convened around it, Lip at its head, and Ian and I moving so that we sat next to him on either side, facing Debbie and Liam, like we were a council of some kind. I did my best to fold my hands in my lap and appear nonchalant; for all our wanting to tell Debbie and Liam about what our sister had done, we hadn't rehearsed it. We also hadn't taken into account their reactions, or who was going to say what. I turned and looked at Lip then, meeting Ian's eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the two of us simultaneously nudged his shoulders with ours.

Lip straightened in his seat then, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists and out again on the surface of the table. "Debs, Liam, we got some interesting news from Fiona today, and I know she would want you to know what it is."

"Is she okay?" Debbie asked.

I sighed then, and Debbie and Liam immediately looked at me. "I got a call from her while I was at the firm today," I said quietly. "She asked me to come down to the diner for lunch, and I told her that I would, even though we're not really approving of her being back with Jimmy. But she sounded a little desperate, so I decided to let bygones be bygones for the time being and went down there to see her."

"Was she okay?" Liam wanted to know.

I smiled, reaching out then and squeezing his shoulder. "Fi is usually nice, Liam," I said gently to him. "Anyhow, she wanted to talk in her office, and when we headed there, she told me that Jimmy got a new job opportunity at this new hospital in New York."

"So, Jimmy's going to leave again?" Debbie said, her voice filled with relief.

"That's the thing," Ian said, speaking for the first time, and I watched as Debbie's and Liam's eyes slid over to him. "Jimmy told Fiona that the only way he'll go to New York and take the job was if she'd go with him...and marry him."

"Wait, Jimmy proposed?!" Debbie demanded then.

"Oh, Jimmy proposed big time," Lip said, and took another cigarette out from his pocket—I hadn't even seen him finish the first one.

Liam looked shocked then. "Did Fiona say yes?"

Ian nodded. "Fiona said yes."

"Did she say anything else?" Debbie asked, looking at me again.

I sighed, sitting back in the chair and reaching out for the cigarette, which Lip handed to me without hesitation. I took a long drag; not only was rehashing this story getting old, but I certainly didn't want any resentment from Debs and Liam. "Fiona asked me if I would take over as the manager—and later the owner—of Patsy's."

Debbie sat upright in her chair then. "What did you tell her?"

Mutely, I handed over the cigarette to Ian, who was already reaching out for it. "I told her I'd take it before she left," I said quietly, and felt four pairs of eyes on me then. "The managerial position, and just for now. I don't even know if I'll want to run a restaurant, and then there's my job at the firm to consider." I got to my feet then and trudged over to the fridge, extracting another beer bottle from it and slamming it onto the edge of the counter, the cap clattering onto the floor as I tipped the bottle to my lips. Once I'd taken a long drink, I slumped against the fridge and shook my head. "I can't even begin to explain Fiona's way of thinking now, and, quite frankly, I don't want to."

Liam sighed then and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Is that it? I should go to bed at some point tonight..."

"You're right," Ian said, getting to his feet. "Want me to tuck you in?"

"No," Liam replied quickly, standing up and shooting Ian a look. "I can go up on my own," he said, and quickly hugged all of us in turn.

"Be careful not to wake Franny when you're up there," Debbie said softly.

Liam turned around at the base of the stairs. "I won't," he replied, and disappeared around the corner before we could speak to him again.

Ian turned and stared at me then from across the room as soon as Liam had left for bed, and I saw then that his mind already working on what he was going to say when he got the opportunity to speak. "You tell Nicholas?"

I gave him a stiff nod, taking another swig of the beer. "Yeah," I replied, remembering his expression when I'd told him of my intention to take over as the manager on Fiona's behalf. "I think he would've yelled at me or something, if I stayed long enough..."

Ian immediately became rigid. "You really think so?"

I shrugged. "I don't fucking know," I replied, straightening up then and returning to my seat at the kitchen table. I slumped in my seat again, literally feeling as if I was drowning my sorrows in the beer bottle. "Things have been...strained..."

Lip nodded. "Because of your arrest?"

"He thinks the charges were bullshit, of course," I said, feeling relieved that my husband and I could agree about that, at least. "But, ever since I've been out, it feels like there's something in the way of us just being...us."

"How do you mean?" Debbie asked.

I sighed then, grumbling incoherently under my breath as I took another swig of my beer; I wanted to feel numb, and that was something that scared me. "He hasn't just come out and said it but I think that he thinks if we have another baby..."

"Another baby?" Ian demanded.

I scoffed. "Yeah," I replied, leaning back in the chair and shaking my head. "I think that he thinks if we have another baby, it could save our marriage..."

"Why does your marriage need to be saved?" Lip wanted to know.

I bit my lip then, not wanting to say it out loud, but knowing I had to tell my siblings of my husband's suspicions. "I think Nicholas thinks that if we have another baby, then it would save our marriage, because he thinks I'm cheating on him," I replied.

Lip watched me then, looking me over, as if I could've already been guilty. "Have you been cheating on him?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No..." My voice caught in my throat then as I leaned forward, placing the beer bottle onto the table and cradling my forehead in my hands. "...not physically speaking. Or sexually. I haven't..."

"What have you done?" Debbie asked—not accusatory, just concerned.

I shuddered, hating myself then as revulsion spread through me as I looked up at my little sister, feeling every inch a failure. "I guess, one could say, that on an emotional level, maybe I've let myself...get too close..."

"To Tommy Matthews?" Ian guessed.

I dragged my hand down my forehead, down my face, before I allowed it to cup my chin. "Yeah, to Tommy Matthews."

"You don't think that's just a little bit stupid?" Ian wanted to know.

I felt my brows knit together then. "Why?"

"Uh, well, let's see. The son of a bitch was your arresting officer and he only got promoted to detective because he brought you in..."

"Not to mention the bloody nose he gave you when he arrested you," Lip said, his tone filled with disgust.

"And his man-handling was unacceptable," Debbie put in, crossing her arms. "You had those bruises on your arms for weeks."

"Police brutality at its finest," Ian said, shaking his head. "I don't know why you would even want to associate with him after all that..."

I gripped the beer bottle, knowing how right they were, but couldn't bring myself to admit it. "I know," I said, my tone slightly broken. "But it's different with Tommy..."

"Yeah, because he's an abuser!" Debbie shouted.

"Deb's is right," Lip said, shaking his head.

"Jesus Christ, Murph—what have you allowed yourself to get into?" Ian demanded.

Immediately, I got to my feet. "I would never cheat on Nicholas!" I replied, the rage, having bubbled to the surface, overflowing to the point of no return. "I love my husband, and I would never do anything to jeopardize my marriage!"

Ian got to his feet as well, facing me. "Then stop seeing him."

I felt myself stumbling then—maybe it was at the thought of not seeing Tommy anymore; or it could've been the drink; or my siblings confronting me. "I can't," I replied, my voice shaking then, and hated myself for showing weakness. Mutely, I picked up the beer bottle and downed it, before I threw it into the bin on my way out.

. . .

After dropping off Iana at preschool the following morning, I headed straight to the diner and unlocked the doors. Fiona had given me a spare set of keys in case of emergencies, and I knew that she would have left the main ones for me in the office. I stepped inside then, leaving the closed sign up, and flipped on all the lights in preparation for the upcoming breakfast rush. We would be slightly delayed in opening that day—I told everyone to come in an hour later so as I could get settled—and yet I was pleased that I had some down time before the forthcoming interactions with the employees.

Once everything was ship-shape in the restaurant itself, I headed back, past the kitchen, and into the office, letting myself inside. It was amusing to me, how this room, which was little bigger than a broom closet, would serve as my office until or unless someone better was found to take over this place. Shaking my head, I stepped inside and left the door open, sitting at the desk and hooking up my phone to its charger.

Nicholas had barely spoken two words to me the previous evening when I'd stepped inside the house, and the same treatment had been afforded to me that morning. Pushing the thought from my mind, I found I liked the casual atmosphere of the diner, and the notion that I could wear jeans in the fall and winter and shorts in the summer seemed welcoming to me. I went over the books as Fiona had suggested, and was pleased that all the money seemed to be in its proper place, before I got a text, telling me that the waitstaff had arrived, as well as the cook. I shut the book and immediately left the office, making my way to the front and let everyone inside, doing my best to keep a smile on my face.

"Good morning, everyone," I said, nodding at them all. "I'm Murphy Gallagher, Fiona's younger sister. Fiona wanted me to let you know that she accepted her boyfriend Jimmy's proposal, and that the two of them have moved to New York together," I said. "I will be taking over as manager for my sister, and I have a few months to decide whether or not I will be taking over as the owner. Once I make a decision, I will either return to my main job as an attorney, or I'll stay on as your boss. I'd like you all to call me 'Murphy', and I'm sure that we'll be a wonderful team if we work together to satisfy the customers. Let's have a good day, then," I said, hoping that my motivational speech was enough.

The workers didn't seem satisfied or dissatisfied with my speech, but seemed to take it all in their stride as they got to work. I flipped the sign around to open, knowing that we could be bustling at any time. I informed the workers that I would be in my office if anything came up on an emergency basis, and immediately fled to the sanctity of the small room. I found the small space comforting then, and knew why Fiona seemed to spend that much time back here. Not only was it a good place to get work done, but it was at a good noise level as well.

I got a text just before lunch from Tommy, and I was shocked at the warmth I felt flow through me when his name popped up on my screen.

 _How's my favorite convict this afternoon_?

Rolling my eyes, I immediately typed out a reply. _You know as well as I do that those charges were dropped_ , _detective_.

 _They may have been_ , _and a good thing_ , _too_. _The jumpsuit was not your color_...

I laughed aloud at the reply, and immediately typed one out of my own. _Well_ , _thank you for your honesty_ , _detective_. _Now_ , _I_ ' _m at work_ , _so if you could get to the point_...

 _So sorry to trouble you_. _Where are you working today_? _The firm or the diner_?

 _I_ ' _m at the diner today_.

 _Maybe I_ ' _ll stop by for lunch_...

 _Perhaps_ , _detective_ , _but bear in mind_ — _we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone_.

I turned over my phone then, wanting to do something a little productive, since I had taken the day off from my main job. I remembered the coldness behind Nicholas's eyes that morning, and I knew that my husband was less than pleased that I had made the decision without speaking to him first. Marriage was all about an equal partnership, and we'd said as much before we were married that big decisions had to be discussed before an action was taken. Even though I thought I was doing the right thing for me, I knew that consulting my family on the matter would have been the more considerate thing to do.

"Hey, Murphy?"

I turned around then, facing one of the waitresses. "Hey," I said, smiling at her. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"There's a guy here for you," she said nervously. "He says he's a friend. He just ordered lunch and was hoping you could come and say hello."

"Was he in a suit?" I asked, getting to my feet.

"Yeah," the waitress replied, immediately grinning. "Dark brown hair, beautiful green eyes. He is a total knockout."

"He is Detective Tommy Matthews," I informed her as we stepped out from the back and into the restaurant itself. "Thank you," I said to her, making my way towards the line of booths by the window and crossing my arms as I came to a stop in front of Tommy's table. "And how are you this afternoon, detective?" I asked him.

Tommy immediately turned to look at me at the sound of my voice and grinned, his green eyes shining as he took me in then. "Well, well, well," he said. "I think the casual look looks good on you, Murphy. Very nice."

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks flushing immediately at the compliment. "Well, thank you," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "What did you order?"

"The chef's special," he replied. "Salad, burger, and a slice of pie."

"The avocado toast burger?" I asked. "With the grilled romaine salad?"

"That's the one," Tommy said.

I nodded. "And what kind of pie did you order, detective?"

"Chocolate crème," Tommy said with a grin.

 _A man after my own heart_ , I thought, before I could stop myself. "That's my favorite."

Tommy grinned up at me again. "I know. Why do you think I ordered it?"

I shrugged. "Coincidence."

Tommy laughed aloud then, and I moved to the side as one of the waitresses approached with his grilled romaine salad. "Can you sit down?" he asked.

I smiled, moving to sit. "I can spare a few minutes."

"Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "Not since this morning." _With my husband and children_ , my mind said, and I felt the stigma in my mind at sitting with this man.

"Have lunch with me," Tommy said, picking up his fork. "Please."

I bit my lip and looked up at the waitress, who was still there, her pad out. "Um, okay. I'll have a chicken burger, a cranberry juice, and a slice of chocolate crème pie," I said, deciding quickly, not really feeling hungry.

"We'll get that started for you, Murphy," she said, writing it all down and making her way to the kitchen, and I heard her telling my order to the cook.

"How's the first day going so far?" Tommy asked, picking at his salad.

I shrugged, crossing my arms and leaning back against the cushions of the booth. "Hmmm, can't readily complain. Although there's this guy that keeps bothering me..."

"Oh, yeah?" Tommy asked. "Say the word and I'll take care of him." He stabbed at his salad then, as if to prove a point, and chewed it. "Delicious," he informed me.

"Problem is, he's a cop," I said, lowering my eyes.

"What's the problem there?"

I bit my lip then, knowing that what was on the tip of my tongue had to be said. "He keeps flirting with me," I said quietly then. "He keeps flirting with me, acting like we're both single, even though I'm married, and have three kids..."

"Murphy."

I looked up at the firmness of his voice, and hoping that he wasn't mad at me. "Yeah?"

"I know you're talking about me."

I gave him a nod. "That was the point."

"Then, why didn't you just say that you didn't like my behavior?"

I sighed then, my shoulders deflating. "Because I don't not like your behavior," I replied. "I think it's flattering. I'm a married twenty-five-year-old, and a mother of three. Of course I think it's flattering when some guy flirts with me."

Tommy smiled. "And that's all it is, Murphy," he informed me then, his voice coaxing. "It's all harmless flirting. We're not doing anything wrong. We're just friends."

"Friends?" I asked, still feeling as if I was betraying Nicholas.

He nodded. "Friends. Friends who can hang out by themselves. Besides, I can protect you from vagrants who don't give a fuck that you're wearing a wedding ring."

I spread my hands slightly at that. "Yeah, I guess you could..." I straightened then as the waitress came by with my cranberry juice. "Thank you," I said to her before she walked away.

"Friends are allowed to hang out," Tommy said as I brought my drink to my lips. "I mean, do you hang out with your girlfriends?"

I shrug. "I don't really hang out with anyone outside my family. My sister Fiona has a friend named Veronica that I'm friends with, but we usually hung out with the family..."

"Well, I think that you and I should socialize in public more often, Murph," Tommy said with a smile then. "Where should we go?"

I shrugged. "Don't really care. You pick."

"The Alibi Room?" he asked. "You know it?"

I scoffed then, gripping the straw of my cranberry juice with one hand and encasing my lips around it, and felt another flush spreading along my cheeks as Tommy watched the entirety of those movements. "Yeah," I replied. "You a regular?"

"Now and again," he replied. "Why?"

I cleared my throat then, setting my drink onto the table. "You know Frank Gallagher?"

"What cop in South Side doesn't?" Tommy asked, continuing to eat his salad. "Why? He a relation of yours or something?"

I scoffed then. "Yeah. He's my dad," I replied, locking eyes with Tommy then, and he immediately knew that I was not a South Side chick to be fucked with.

Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Your dad?"

I nodded. "Not by choice, but yeah."

"So, Frank Gallagher raised you?"

I shook my head. "No. Fiona raised my siblings. Not me."

"Why?"

"I was adopted," I reply. "My name, until I was twenty-one-years-old, was Scarlett Elizabeth Davies, and I lived an absolute hellish life in Seattle."

"So, you're happier in South Side?"

I smiled then, lifting my drink back towards my lips. "Yeah," I replied. "Took me over twenty years, but I finally found happiness."


	4. To Save A Life

Chapter Four: To Save A Life

I found that, as the days went on and I continued to use up my vacation days from the firm to fulfill my obligation to the diner, I had no regrets whatsoever. In fact, the hustle and bustle of the restaurant was just what I needed, and I found I liked chatting with the customers and making sure that they were getting everything they wanted. Several of them had been coming for years, and so they knew Fiona, and would frequently comment on how similar the two of us were to each other. I couldn't help but laugh at that once they were out of earshot; other than our eyes, our personalities, and our temperaments, Fiona and I were nothing alike. I had red hair like Ian, I was close to Debbie in height, and I had a drinking problem like Lip and Frank.

Emphasis on the drinking problem; I'd been sneaking beer bottles into the office during the day just to cope, and would throw them out into the bins in the alleyway without anyone noticing what I was doing. I knew that I was being unprofessional, but I found that I couldn't get through the day without a buzz. Since I'd stopped breastfeeding the boys the summer before—when they had been six months, which had been a large point of contention with Nicholas—I found that I missed the freedom to drink, and, now that I had it back, I was not about to let it go. The most frightening part of this "problem" that I had—which was, of course, not a problem, because I was completely fine—was that my ability to function accordingly wasn't impaired, and I could just carry on my merry way however I saw fit.

Now that Iana was in the advanced preschool class—which I'd promptly moved her into her accumulate more hours at the diner—she was in school for six hours a day. For arguments sake, it was a pre-kindergarten class, and she was thriving in the environment, despite the fact that she was younger than the rest of the group. The instructors loved her, however, and were constantly telling me how intelligent they thought she was, and I was pleased at the words. Iana was very special to me—she had been a beacon of light in the darkness of my life, for my belief that I couldn't have children naturally had eaten away at me for years—and now that she was thriving in the educational world, I couldn't have been more pleased.

On Monday, the beginning of the final week of September, I had a text from Allie, informing me that she would be leaving early from the firm and would love to pick up Iana and the boys to have a grandmother day with them. I immediately agreed; I had to go over inventory for a couple of hours, and I would feel better at finishing it in one go before returning to it. When her second text offered to let them spend the night, and asked if she could use the spare key to go and collect some of their things, I didn't hesitate. Allie was a wonderful grandmother to my children, and even before Iana had been adopted, had treated her as a granddaughter, and so I allowed Allie to take my children for the night. I also received a text from Nicholas, who too consented to Allie taking the kids, and said that he was working late on the analysis of a deposition, so he wouldn't be home until late.

I sat back in my chair then, rolling my shoulders, and seeing the amount of beer bottles beside the desk that I'd attempted to hide were eating away at me. I got to my feet, gathering them up into a bag and walking outside the office; I needed to stretch my legs a bit. I made my way out into the alley, swinging the bag into the dumpster and leaning against the side of the restaurant. I reached into the pocket of my jeans and fumbled for the pack of cigarettes I'd been chipping away at since the second half of the week before. My lighter was in my other pocket, and I stuck the stick of tobacco between my teeth and got the lighter to flare up, and I inhaled the smoke into my lungs effortlessly.

I got out my phone again, and sent a text to Ian. _How_ ' _s your day going_?

 _Fine_. _Just got back from a call a few minutes ago_. _How about you_?

I scoffed then, rolling my eyes at his nonchalant attitude as I took the cigarette out from between my lips, allowing some of the smoke to escape in a plume as I wrote him back. _Just standing in the alley on my smoke break_.

 _Since when do you smoke_?

 _You know I didn_ ' _t have a cigarette until I was twenty_ - _one_.

Ian replied quickly then. _No_ , _I know that_. _But you've been smoking a lot more lately_. _What_ ' _s up with you_ , _Murph_?

I bit my lip then; Ian could read me like a book, and he always seemed to know immediately when something was bothering me. _Allie_ ' _s taking the kids for the night and Nicholas is working late again_. _I_ ' _ll come by the house tonight_ , _make some dinner_ , _and we can talk_. _All right_?

 _Sounds good to me_. _Just let yourself in when you get off work_. _See you later_.

I finished my cigarette and headed back inside to finish the inventory, and managed to get everything sorted out a little after five. The dinner rush was going to happen at any time now, but Mondays were usually slow, so I always left just before it began, and the staff knew to call me if there was an emergency. I got to my feet once I'd finished the paperwork, and put it into its correct file folder and pulled on my leather jacket. I had to stop at the grocery store and pick up a few things, or, I reasoned, I could easily get some takeout. It really didn't matter—Liam was at the phase where he would eat anything, and Ian and I had the same taste in food.

I said goodbye to everyone for the night and stepped outside towards my car, fishing my keys out of my pocket and letting myself in. I decided to call for some pizza, just wanting to keep it simple that night, and picked up the two I'd ordered and drove straight to the house. One was meat-lovers and the other one was cheese—I like cheese, sue me. As I parked outside the house and let myself out, I could see the light from the television glowing in the autumn darkness, and I smiled to myself, stepping into the yard, up the stairs, and towards the door. I got my house key out of my pocket and let myself in, spotting Liam immediately on the couch.

"Hey, little man," I called as I stepped inside. I leaned down and kissed his head, chuckling as he made an annoyed sound as I crossed the room. My brother was officially in the adolescent phase, and I loved every minute of it. "You hungry? I got pizza."

"Meat-lovers?!" Liam cried out then, immediately my best friend as he blitzed off the couch after me, following me into the kitchen.

"Of course!" I said indulgently, setting the boxes down and figuring out which one he wanted. I got a plate for him from the cupboard, getting two generous slices and putting them directly onto the plate. "Now, of course, if you want more, take some."

"You know it!" Liam said, grinning up at me, his plate secure in his grip, as he turned around and returned to his show.

I shook my head at him, amused as I crossed to the fridge and opened it up, beer bottles glaring back at me. Immediately, and without thinking, I grabbed one, getting the cap off effortlessly and taking a drink. My senses were immediately overflowing with relaxation, and I loved the feeling of the calm spreading over me as I got a slice of cheese pizza for myself. I brought the box over to the table, because I'd been so focused on the damn inventory that I'd skipped lunch, and just sat at the table, taking out my phone in a fluid motion.

 _Liam is eating and he is happy_. _Just sitting here waiting_.

Ian texted back quickly. _Traffic awful_ , _but hurrying back_! _I love that I got Fiona_ ' _s car_...

 _You only got Fiona_ ' _s car because she offered it to me and I gave it to you_.

 _Yeah_... _but I still got it_...

I rolled my eyes, placing my phone on the surface of the table, taking small bites of my pizza, and focusing entirely on my beer. When I finished my bottle, I rooted around in my pocket for my cigarettes, lighting one up and merely staring at my slice of pizza, not even halfway eaten, and just allowed my head to roll back so that I was staring up at the ceiling. The kitchen door opening causes me to straighten up, and I let out an audible groan as Frank crosses the threshold and steps inside.

"Ah, it's another one of my ungrateful children," he says by way of greeting, opening the box of pizza in front of me. "Of course you would like just cheese on yours," he goes on, shaking his head and walking over to the other box.

I took my cigarette out of my mouth and got to my feet. "What do you want, Frank?"

Frank rolls his eyes, taking out a slice of meat-lovers and cramming it into his mouth. "Still not holding my breath for you to call me 'Dad'," he muttered.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered under my breath. "Law enforcement knows you're my father, and so does the general public. What the fuck does it matter?"

Frank grins. "I knew you'd sound South Side sooner or later."

I crossed my arms. "Fuck off," I muttered, bringing my cigarette back to my mouth again. "You don't know a fucking thing about me."

"I know that you're my daughter, which makes you a Gallagher," he said simply. "I know you must resent the shit out of me."

I scoffed. "You think?" I demanded then, glaring at him. "You fucking knew about me for over twenty years, and you never bothered to look for me! You went out and found fucking Sammi when you needed her, but you never tried to find me. Why is that, I wonder?" I said, lowering my voice, my rage bubbling towards the surface. "Did you think I would have all of Monica's DNA or something?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Please. I didn't even know you were mine until I saw you that day, and I was still unsure until I saw your birth certificate."

I shook my head at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Monica got pregnant with Ian when she fucked my brother, Clayton, when she was high on PCP in 1995," Frank said, and I rolled my eyes—I already knew this information. "For all I knew, you two were identical."

"So, what you're saying is, you didn't think you could be my father, so that's why you never bothered to fucking look for me?!"

Frank grinned at me, finishing his slice of pizza and moving to grab another one. "I knew you'd understand," he said to me.

"Oh, yeah, I understand," I said, crossing over to him and slamming the box shut, and he pulled his hand back immediately.

"Ow, fuck, Murph!"

I reached out then and slapped him across the face. "I told you not to call me that, Frank!" I yelled at him, my hackles up and ready for a fight. "But believe me, I understand your motives for not tracking me down—really, I do! You didn't want to have another kid for Fiona to raise. I guess, after all those years, fucking Frank Gallagher felt some guilt!"

Frank rolled his eyes. "I don't feel guilty, Murphy."

I shook my head at him. "No, no of course you don't. To have or admit guilt, you need to be a person with empathy. You have no empathy, Frank. You're a hollowed-out shell—the only things you can do are for yourself. You can eat, you can get drunk, you can shit, and you can fuck. It's all you're good for, Frank, because god knows you wouldn't know how to be a good father in a million years!"

"I'm still the only father you've got—"

"You are _not_ my father!" I cried out then, hating that my voice was shaking as I jabbed my finger in his face. "You will never be my father! I got along fine for over twenty years without a father, and I sure as shit don't need one now!"

Frank looked perplexed then and inhaled. "You drunk, Murphy?"

Immediately, I felt my cheeks flame with anger. "What?!" I demanded then, my voice as sharp as the crack of whip.

Frank grinned. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

I crossed my arms, returning my cigarette into my mouth, hoping that the smoke inhalation would calm me. "No, I'm not."

"How many have you had today, Murph? Ballpark."

I shook my head at him. "You're crazy. I'm not drunk."

Frank reached out then and pushed me on the shoulder, and I immediately stumbled, falling backwards into the counter. "You're drunk."

I scoffed, keeping my cigarette in between my teeth. "So what?"

"How many beers, Murphy?"

"I don't know!" I fired at him then, glaring at him. "Ten, maybe?" I said, hunching my shoulders at him, and wanting to claw his eyes out for what he was insinuating. "Why do you care?!"

Frank shrugged. "You're my daughter."

" _Don_ ' _t_ say that," I said, my voice wavering slightly. "You never gave a shit about me, Frank, or any of the rest of us. You kept me away from my siblings—the one place I could've been happy in my life—just because you were afraid of being stuck with a second kid that wasn't yours. Do you realize how selfish that is? One DNA test would've confirmed it, or just by looking at me, like on the day you met me..." My voice broke then, and I considered something that I'd never considered before. "Did you even see us in the hospital together?"

Frank shook his head. "No. Monica must've had you sent away immediately into the foster care system. I never saw you until that day."

"Jesus," I whispered, shaking my head and stumbling towards him then, knocking him out of the way and grabbing another bottle from the fridge.

"Sure that's a good idea, Murph?"

"Go to hell," I replied, taking the cap off and chugging down my first sip. "And don't fucking call me that—I fucking told you already..." I turned around then, regarding him for a moment as I leaned against the fridge, the coolness in temperature feeling good on my back. "Why are you even here, Frank? What do you want?"

"Can't a father come by to see the daughter he didn't get a chance to raise?" he asked, throwing his hands up into the air.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Frank, I hope you realize that that statement applies to four of your children, and not just me..."

He rolled his eyes. "I just don't understand why you can't just live and let live, Murphy," he replied, his tone peppered with exasperation. "My other children haven't forgiven me fully, of course, but they don't want to kill me every time we see each other..."

I shook my head at him, lifting the beer bottle to my lips and trying to hold it together. "You know that statement is also completely untrue, don't you?"

Frank gripped the opposite counter then, looking me over and attempting to figure out something to talk about. "Would it really kill you to call me 'Dad' once in a while, Murph?"

"Stop fucking calling me that," I muttered, swirling the beer around in its bottle before pulling it back to my lips and chugging it. "Only family members get to call me that."

"I'm your father, Murphy. You know that, your siblings know that, and the local government and law enforcement know that. Why won't you call me 'Dad'?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You may be my father, Frank, but you sure as shit aren't my dad. I have never needed parents—I got along fine without them—and I know I'll be all right without you as a father."

Frank looked annoyed then. "Why can't you just get over it?" he asked. "Why can't you just let yourself be my daughter?"

"I'm not your daughter by choice, Frank. I just so happen to have a sizeable amount of your DNA pumping through my veins. That's all it is." I was instantly relieved when the kitchen door opened again, and Ian stood on the threshold, taking in my expression, and the person standing opposite me.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Frank?!" Ian demanded, slamming the door behind him and stomping over, standing in between the two of us.

Frank shrugged. "Wanted to see my daughter."

Ian groaned. "Frank, Murph moved out almost a year ago."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Forget it—I'm leaving," he said, snagging a piece of pizza before either of us could call him out on it. "Oh, before I forget," he said, making his way to the kitchen door and turning around, "maybe address the fact that that's your eleventh beer today, Murph," he said with a grin before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

"Eleventh beer?!" Ian demanded then, turning around and staring at me as I finished the bottle before he took it away from me. "What the fuck, Murph?!"

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter," I said, reaching into my pocket for another cigarette, only to find the empty carton. "Fuck," I whispered.

"Murphy, you're supposed to be the responsible one here," Ian said, dragging his hand through his hair as I looked up at him. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"I just..." I shrugged then, not altogether sure myself. "I'm not coping," I said quietly. "I have to drink, Ian. I have to..."

"What?" Ian asked, just looking me over then. "What are you talking about?"

I bit my lip then, knowing that I had to talk about it. "That's why I stopped breastfeeding the boys so soon," I said quietly, and Ian looked concerned. "Last summer, when Fiona said that she was going to be with Jimmy again, I don't know... Something snapped, and I needed something to cope with the fact that she was being so fucking stupid," I said.

"How bad is it?"

"It's bad," I said, dragging my hand across my mouth.

"How bad?" he pressed.

"So bad that Allie offers to take the kids several times a week, and that Nicholas stays at the firm working late," I said quietly.

"And for you?"

"I tried to get off it last week," I said quietly. "Even though Fiona left, I knew I had to cut back, but I couldn't..."

"What happened, Murph?"

"I was shaking," I whispered. "I was shaking and throwing up and all I could do was think about having another beer..."

"Sounds like Frank, when his liver was failing," Ian said quietly.

I shrugged. "I need it, Ian," I whispered. "I need it..."

"Murph, you can't," Ian said, his tone sounding tortured. "You're behaving like an alcoholic, and I can't let you do that to yourself..."

"I'm still functioning!" I burst out then, my voice trembling as I tried and failed to make him see reason with me. "I can't function without it, Ian."

He shook his head. "You can, Murph. I know you can."

I rolled my eyes, getting another beer out from the fridge behind me, and although he made no moves to stop me, Ian's expression said it all. "What?" I said, narrowing my eyes at him as I got the bottle cap off, and drank it. "What are you going to do? Yell at me some more?"

Ian narrowed his eyes at me then, taking me by the shoulders and dragging me over to the kitchen table. "You're going to sit there, Murph," he said, and pulled out a second chair to sit beside me. He got out his phone then, and I vaguely heard him speaking into it as the beer continued to dull my senses. "Hey, man. You need to come over right now. There's a bit of a situation... Okay. Thanks."

"Oh, great. What have you done now?" I demanded, turning to look at him and narrowing my eyes at him, feeling like a kid in the principal's office.

"Something that'll help you," Ian fired back, crossing his arms. "Look, Murph, I know that the real you is in there somewhere. Don't let her go. Please."

I scoffed then, taking another swig from my bottle, gripping it in between my fingers, refusing to let it go. "She's still here, Ian. Fuck, I mean, I'm the realest I've ever been. I'm sorry if you don't see it that way."

Ian sighs, waiting in silence for the next several minutes, until the kitchen door opens and Lip steps inside. Ian gets to his feet then and gestures towards the table, and I deliberately avoid eye contact with both my older brothers as I lean back in the chair. I am vaguely aware of Lip sitting across from me, and Ian debriefing him about the situation, but I find I cannot look at either of them, the shame slowly but surely beginning to eat away at me.

"I just didn't know who else to call," Ian concludes then.

"Hey, man, it's okay," Lip said, and I felt his eyes on me then. "Murph, Ian says that you've been drinking a lot. Care to explain why?"

I looked up at him then, narrowing my eyes at him. "What's it to you?"

"Murph, I'm your brother," Lip replies. "I don't understand why you would think I wouldn't care about you, or this situation. Come on. Talk to us."

I rolled my eyes. "Doesn't matter."

Lip took his palm then and slammed it down on the surface of the table, causing me to physically shudder at the unexpected gesture.

"Lip!" I screamed then, looking at him like he was crazy. "What the fuck?!"

"I'm not going to let you do this to yourself, Murph!" he said then, and Ian quickly looked from one of our faces to the other, debating whether or not to intervene. "One alcoholic kid in a family is enough!"

I rolled my eyes at him then, uncaring about his attitude. "I am not an alcoholic, Lip. Jesus, what do you take me for?!"

"Murphy, you're using alcohol to cope with your depression," he said, and my eyes snapped back to his.

"What the fuck do you know?!" I growled at him.

"You're upset that Fiona left!" Lip yelled. "Fuck, I mean, we all are! But we're now drowning our sorrows in alcohol!"

I scoffed then, taking another swig of the beer, and Lip narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not drowning my sorrows, dammit. I just need it to take the edge off things at work, and to help me function now and again..."

"Fuck, Murph," Lip said, shaking his head. "Do you know how many times over the last several years I've wanted to pick up a bottle and drink from it? When we found out the two of us couldn't be together, when we found out that you were pregnant and it could've been mine... I mean, of course I slipped up several times—because I'm a fucking alcoholic, but at least I admit to it. I always admit to it, because I knew I was in the category of predisposition to have it happen to me. Since you and I have the same DNA, Murph, you're in that category, too. You're an alcoholic."

I shook my head at him, taking a final swig of my beer—finishing the bottle—and getting to my feet then. "Fuck you, Lip," I replied, throwing it into the bin and walking into the living room and towards the front door.

"Murph!" Lip shouted then, and I heard his footsteps behind me then, and, as I turned around, I saw him coming at me then, and he slammed me up against the wall.

"Lip?" Liam asked then, and I swore quietly, forgetting that he'd been on the couch.

"Go upstairs, Liam," Lip said, his eyes never leaving mine.

"But Lip—"

"Now!" Lip yelled then, and Liam quickly got to his feet and scurried past us and up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

"Lip, get the fuck off me!" I yelled as soon as he was gone, and struggled beneath his grip. "Let me go, right now!"

"Not until you admit it!"

I rolled my eyes. "If you don't let me go, I'm going to fucking kill you!" I yelled, attempting and failing to shove him off me.

"Say that you're an alcoholic, Murph!" Lip said, his voice shaking. "Just admit it. That's the first step to all of this—"

"I won't admit it because it's not true, you fuckhead!" I yelled then, and managed to get my strength back in an attempt to shove him away from me. "Now, get the fuck off me and stop demanding shit from me!"

Ian stepped into the room then, watching in horror at what was happening in front of him. "Lip, maybe that's enough..."

"Murph needs to admit it!" Lip yelled then, and I knew that he was at the point of no return. "She needs to admit what she is..."

"Jesus fuck, this isn't some therapy or some shit!" I yelled back, and knocked him off of me at long last, my eyes blinded by tears. I took a moment to catch my breath, and yet remained on my guard in case Lip moved to grab me again, and just found myself staring at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I whispered.

"Murph, please," Lip said, his voice trying not to shake. "I know an alcoholic when I see one, and your behavior checks all the boxes..."

"Get off this, Lip," I replied, leaning up against the wall, and crossing my arms. "I'm not going to admit to something that I don't believe to be true."

"Then, let's start off easier," Lip said, his mind working in an attempt to make some sort of compromise with me.

I scoffed. "You call shoving me up against the wall easier?!" I demanded then, looking at him like I thought he was psycho.

"Murph, come on," Ian said from across the room. "He's just trying to help."

I rolled my eyes. "He hides it very well..."

"Murph, why did you start drinking?"

I raised my eyes to Lip's then, hating myself for allowing the tears to escape from my eyes. "I don't know," I whispered.

"Well, when did the drinking start?" he wanted to know.

I sighed. "Last summer, after I quit breastfeeding the boys," I replied. "I guess I thought I had a handle on it, but..."

"What happened?" Lip asked me then.

"After Fiona left, okay?!" I demanded then, hating that I had to show off my vulnerable side. "It was after she left and I fell off the wagon completely. I've been going to The Alibi almost nightly and just throwing back a few..."

"Alone?" Ian asked.

I shook my head. "No, of course not."

Ian mulled that over for a moment. "You said that Nicholas has been working late at the firm recently," he said quietly. "So, it's not with him."

I sighed. "No. No, it's not with Nicholas."

"Who are you drinking with, then?" Lip wanted to know. "Because it hasn't been with any of us, that's for sure. Fiona took off, I've been working a lot, Ian didn't know anything about this, Debs doesn't drink a lot, Carl's on assignment, and Liam's too young. So, Murph, the question of the hour is, who's your drinking buddy?"

I leaned my head back against the wall then, staring up at the ceiling. "Tommy," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Your arresting officer?!" Lip demanded. "The one who gave you a fucking bloody nose on the day he met you?!"

I gave a stiff nod. "Yeah."

"Why the fuck would you associate with that asshole?!"

"She claims they're friends," Ian informed Lip softly.

"Jesus, Murph," Lip said, and my eyes snapped back to his. "No wonder Nicholas is working until all hours of the night..."

"Not to mention that Allie keeps offering to watch the kids," Ian put in.

I give them both looks of shock. "Excuse me?"

Lip rolled his eyes. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

I shook my head then, unsure of what they were referring to. "Look, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but if someone could fill in the blanks for me, that'd be great."

Ian sighed then, and I turned to look over at him.

"What?!" I demanded, my voice sounding like a whip. "If you've got something to say, then say it. Don't drag it out, for fuck's sake."

"Murph," Lip said, his voice soft then, and I turned to look at him again. "I think Nicholas thinks that you're fucking Tommy."

"Fucking Tommy?!" I cried out then, shaking my head. "No, of course I'm not—"

"Murph, you're spending all this time with him. What's he supposed to think?" Ian asked, and I turned to look at him then. "You're his wife, and yet you're spending time with another man without supervision..."

"I'm not some thirsty teenage slut!" I cried out then. "I would never cheat on my husband, for fuck's sake! What do you take me for?!"

"An alcoholic," Lip said quietly, and my eyes locked to his. "They justify their actions, ones that they may think are considered all right, but that others sense and know that are wrong..."

I shook my head at him then, before I advanced upon him and smacked him full across the fact, the rage bubbling off my skin. "I'm not a fucking alcoholic, or a cheating wife!" I yelled at him, my voice shaking. "Shut the fuck up and leave me alone!" I said then, and turned and looked at Ian, who was shocked at the display. "And, if you're on Lip's side here, then that goes for you, too, Ian! You can both go to hell!" I said, my voice reaching its breaking point then as I turned around, ripping the door open and stomping out into the lobby, whereupon I grabbed my jacket, opened the front door into the cold night, and slammed it behind me.


	5. Remains of the Day

Chapter Five: Remains of the Day

In the weeks that followed, I'd taken to spending my mornings and afternoons at the firm, and then coming in for the dinner rushes at the diner. Allie had been extremely accommodating towards Iana and the boys, and would even have them over in the late afternoons and early evenings, with Nicholas picking them up and taking them home at night. I'd come home around nine each night, take a shower, and crash, hating that I only had an hour in the mornings to spend with my children as I juggled the two jobs handed to me.

With the arrival of October, I had the rare opportunity to see my husband one day at the firm, when he came into my office. I was filing again, resenting what my attorney career had come to, and missing the diner in the early part of the day. My husband came into my office without knocking and I immediately got to my feet, and, wanting him to know that I was pleased to see him, went around my desk and promptly kissed him. The notion that he kissed me back in such a fleeting manner was not lost on me, and he gently pulled back from me and remained serious about the situation—now was no time for fun and games, apparently.

"I wanted to let you know that the preparations for the Halloween ball are officially in their final stages," he said informatively, and I gave a stiff nod to that.

"The speakeasy," I said, forcing a smile onto my lips at the physical, and emotional, distance between my husband and me. I remembered how, in the early days, the notion of keeping our hands off each other was entirely foreign, and now, of course, given what Ian and Lip had said about my relationship with Tommy and Nicholas's thoughts on that, sent a wave of bitterness through my psyche. I didn't want to believe that Nicholas would actually think that I would ever, under any circumstances, cheat on him...

"That's right," Nicholas confirmed. "Will you be inviting anyone? Naturally, as you and I are married now, and how much of an asset you are to the firm—and now that you're a Blomqvist—you can invite whoever you like."

 _An asset_? I thought to myself. _That's what he thought of his wife_?! "Debbie wanted to come," I said quietly. "If that's all right."

Nicholas smiled. "Of course Debbie can come."

"She was wondering if she could leave Franny with our sitter that night..."

My husband nodded. "We'll just pay her extra. I'm sure it won't be a problem."

I hesitated for a moment, wanting to test the waters, as it were, as my suspicions on my husband's attitude towards it were slowly but surely eating away at me... "Maybe Tommy could come as well?"

Nicholas blinked. "Tommy?"

I nodded. "Tommy."

Immediately, his body language registered discomfort. "I don't know, Murphy. You see him at least once a week at The Alibi to do god knows what... Does he really have to come to the Halloween ball, too?"

I cocked an eyebrow then as I crossed my arms. "Why would that be an issue, Nicholas?" I asked him then, fighting to keep my tone civil. "Do you have an issue with Tommy? Because, if you do, I'd like to know about it."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, obviously attempting to keep his cool. "I take issue with anyone who physically attacks my wife, Murphy. I don't give a fuck if he was just doing his job. The man gave you a fucking bloody nose when he arrested you on those trumped-up charges. I won't stand for him being near you..."

"Tommy _was_ just doing his job, goddammit," I fired back, glaring at him then. "Tommy is also a friend of mine, for Christ's sake. I don't see why it's such an issue for me to have a friend of the opposite sex, Nicholas."

"Dammit, Murphy," Nicholas said, dragging a hand through his hair. "You and I started off as friends and look where it got us—married with three children." He crossed over to me then, and made a grab for my arms, and staring down at me then, causing my breath to catch in my throat at our closeness. "I don't want that son of a bitch near you. Obviously, I can't tell you what to do or who to spend your time with, but goddammit if I don't say something, I'm afraid you'll think I don't give a shit, and I do give a shit, because you're my fucking wife."

I felt my knees quaking then, the core of my entire being registering shock then as my husband spoke with such passion and brute strength—it was a hell of a turn-on. "You don't have anything to worry about, Nicholas."

He blinked. "What?"

I lowered my eyes then, swallowing. "Do you honestly think that I would ever, under any circumstances, cheat on you?"

"Murph..."

I raised my eyes back to his then, wanting him to give me a straight answer. "Just answer the question, Nicholas. Please."

Nicholas sighed then, his shoulders deflating then as he let go of my arms, and stepped away from me. "I don't know what to think anymore..."

I let out a pained gasp then. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've been different since your arrest, Murph," he replied simply. "It means I'm not sure if I know you completely anymore..."

I shook my head then. "You don't mean that," I replied, my voice breaking. "Don't talk like that, Nicholas. Don't..."

"I want to fight for us, Murph, I do," he said, and I sensed the sadness in his voice then, "but I don't know if there's anything left to fight for..."

"Is this about Tommy?" I demanded then, anger creeping into my tone. "Because, if it's about Tommy, I swear, we haven't done anything inappropriate..."

Nicholas set his mouth then, and I knew that he was trying to keep his emotions in check. "I don't know if it's just about Tommy, Murph. It also has to do with you never being around the firm anymore—or on a limited-hours basis. You've thrown yourself into being the manager at the diner, and your refusal to make a final decision about taking it over completely is really riding on me and my parents. Plus, you made the decision without talking to me about it first. I mean, you used to talk to me, or Ian, and now I feel like the only person you talk to is fucking Tommy at the fucking Alibi..."

"So, what are you saying?" I asked him.

"I'm saying that I'm so close to taking the kids, and going to stay at my parent's house if you don't clean up your act, Murph."

I crossed my arms. "I don't understand."

"I know about the drinking, Murph," he said quietly. "I know that you're overdoing it, and it's not healthy. It's not. A little drinking and smoking here and there—I honestly wouldn't give a fuck about it. But you could put our children, and yourself, in danger if you transported them somewhere, or just by drinking at home..."

I shook my head. "Don't take them," I whispered, my voice cracking towards the end. "Don't take my children..."

"What about me, Murph?" he asked. "I know that the kids are supposed to be the main priority here, but how about me? Do you care that I'm threatening to leave you?"

"Of course I fucking care!" I cried out, walking towards him then and gripping him by the collar of his shirt. "You're my husband! Why wouldn't I care?!"

Nicholas's hands automatically came up then, and untangled the grip my fingers had upon him, pain in his dark eyes. "I don't know, Murph. I also don't know why you never tell me that you love me, unless I say it first."

I brought my hands inward then, so that my fingers tangled up within themselves as I stared up at him, blinded by tears. "What difference does that make? You know I do..."

"Then, why do you never say it?" he whispered.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I whispered, honestly unknowing about everything at this point. "I don't know, Nicholas. I'm sorry..."

He gave a stiff nod. "Do you even want to work through this, Murph?"

I sighed. "Of course I fucking want to work through this, Nicholas," I say, making no move to dash the tears from my eyes. "You're my husband."

"Okay," he replied. "I won't leave, or take the kids. But you need to figure out where your priorities lie, Murph. With your family, and a career, and whether or not our marriage means more to you than this abnormal thing you've got with Tommy," he said, his voice contorting slightly then before he left my office.

. . .

Debbie met us at our place on the night of Halloween, dropping off Franny into the care of Lucy, our sitter. Iana immediately took Franny upstairs into her bedroom to play, while the boys had already been put to bed. Nicholas, Debbie, and I thanked Lucy for her availability that evening and got into my car shortly thereafter. Debbie talked about her job in a laughing manner, and I was pleased that it took up the duration of the drive, for my husband and I really didn't have anything to say to one another.

"Okay, are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to ask directly?" Debbie asked me quietly once we'd arrived, and Nicholas had gone into the room to find Allie and Hugo, while Debbie and I checked all three of our coats.

I pursed my lips, appreciating the fact that my sister knew that something was wrong with my marriage, but wanting to explain it delicately, as he was the son of my bosses. "Let's take a trip to the ladies' room, Debbie," I replied diplomatically, leading her to the employee restroom located off the hallway of the employee café. I looked underneath the stalls when we entered, and after ascertaining that we were alone, I went towards the mirror and pretended to check my makeup. "What do you want to know?"

Debbie sighed, leaning up against the wall next to me and looking me over. "Well, you look like you haven't been sleeping, and I saw the flask you're keeping in your purse," she said, and I lowered my eyes, removing it then and taking a swig. Debbie inhaled then, her nose wrinkling at what I ingested. "Vodka?"

I shrugged. "So?"

"Is that why you've been ignoring Lip and Ian for the last month?" she asked, crossing her arms, her dark eyes filling with worry.

I scoffed then, taking another swig of the liquid and pinching my cheeks. "They were pretty fucking accusatory of my recent behavior," I replied, my tone clipped as I slipped my flask back into my purse.

"Other than the drinking, what did they say?"

I pursed my lips, reapplying my lipstick and pumping some breath spray into my mouth so that Nicholas wouldn't suspect that I was spending my time getting drunk. "Lip and Ian may have accused me of cheating on Nicholas..."

Debbie sighed. "With Tommy?"

Immediately, my eyes snapped to hers. "What do you know?"

"I come to The Alibi sometimes after work, and I've seen you two together," my sister replies, and crosses her arms. "The way he looks at you..." She shook her head. "That's not the way someone who's just a friend is supposed to look at you."

I felt my cheeks heat then, but I shook my head at her. "You're wrong," I said quickly. "Tommy and I are just friends. We like to have fun, but he's never crossed a line with me, Debs, never. I mean, he knows that I'm married..."

She shrugged. "Sometimes men don't care," she replied. "They see what they want and think they're entitled to it, and they just go after it."

"Not Tommy," I said, my voice shaking as uncertainty flowed through me. "I mean... He wouldn't do that..."

"I don't trust him," Debbie said quietly. "Not just by the way he looks at you, but the son of a bitch gave you a bloody nose when he arrested you. You claim to be just friends, but I don't think that your friendship is healthy, Murph. It can't be."

I scoffed. "He's coming tonight," I said, looking in the mirror one more time before making my way towards the door.

Debbie gasped then, stumbling over a reply as she went after me. "Are you fucking serious?!" she demanded, looking at me as if I was crazy.

I shrugged. "What?"

"You invited him?!"

I sighed, opening the door of the ladies' room. "It's not that big a deal," I called over my shoulder as we rounded the corner of the hallway and stepped into the café, where the party was being held. "Come on. Let's go see Allie and Hugo. They love you."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they love me, because if I was married to Nicholas, I wouldn't screw around on him..."

Immediately, I turned around and glared at her. "Listen up, little sister, I know what I'm doing. I would never screw around with someone else. I'm married."

My sister shook her head at me then as she looked across the room. "Then why is he even here, Murph?" she asked and, as I followed her eyes, I saw Tommy speaking to Rachel. "Can you answer that question?"

I felt a lump forming in my throat then as I made a grab for Debbie's hand. "Let's go see Allie and Hugo first," I said, attempting to keep the trembling sensations from my voice as we walked towards my in-laws. "Allie, Hugo," I said, accepting their customary hugs.

"Murphy," Allie said.

"You're looking well," Hugo put in.

"And Debbie!" Allie cried out, in the tone she used to reserve for me as she embraced my little sister in a moment of exuberance. "It's so lovely to see you, dear."

"Nice to see you again, Allie," Debbie said, returning her hug before turning towards my father-in-law.

"Debbie, darling," Hugo said, pulling Debbie towards him and hugging her. "Don't you forget about me now."

"Never, Hugo," Debbie replied.

I immediately felt my hair standing on end then as Nicholas appeared behind me, putting an arm around my waist. "Hey," I said, turning towards him and kissing him on the cheek, but I could feel his grip tightening then and, as I followed his line of sight, I could see that he was staring at Tommy angrily. "Something wrong?" I asked, my voice deliberately innocent.

Nicholas chuckled, waiting for Allie and Hugo to keep talking to Debbie before he moved to kiss my cheek—at least, that's what it would've looked like to the outside world when, in reality, he was taking the opportunity to whisper in my ear. "Would you care to explain to me what the fuck Tommy Matthews is doing here?"

I could feel his jealousy rippling through him then, and my heart hammered in my ears at the notion that he was jealous of a friend of mine. "I told you, Nicholas, that I wanted to invite him, because he's a friend..."

"That friend is ruining our marriage," he hissed then, doing his best to keep his voice low as the period music swelled around us.

I turned to look at him then, his eyes flat-black with rage. "I can't believe we are going to rehash this conversation," I whispered back to him. "We've already established the fact that Tommy and I are just friends, and that I would never do anything inappropriate, and we still haven't."

Nicholas scoffed. "No physical contact then?"

"We hug," I said, looking at him for a reaction. "He hugs me. And he's kissed me on the cheek once or twice..."

Nicholas grimaced. "Has he now?"

"Jesus Christ," I whispered, rolling my eyes. "I'm not fucking cheating on you. Why the fuck wouldn't you trust me?!"

"It's not you, Murphy. It's him," Nicholas said quietly, his eyes never leaving the direction of where Tommy stood. "I don't trust him with you. The only men I trust you with are the boys, my father, and your brothers."

I scoffed. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," I said.

He shook his head. "I'm not."

I shoved myself away from him then. "Fuck you," I replied, marching over to the temporary speakeasy bar which had been set up on the other side of the room. "I'll have a Rickey, please," I said to the bartender, having heard the name somewhere, and knowing that the term 'highball' was used for it. I took the drink immediately after it was presented to me, thanking the bartender and downing it quickly.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I scoffed, signaling for the bartender to make me another one before I turned around to face Tommy, crossing my arms. "You don't know the half of it."

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to the bartender. "I'll have what she's having." Once he got his first drink and I my second, Tommy regarded me then with his green eyes, sipping his drink and looking concerned. "What's going on?"

I took my second drink in one go then, slamming the bar for a third one—I wanted to get totally plastered that night, no longer giving a fuck. "Nicholas thinks that I'm cheating on him with you," I replied.

Tommy laughed aloud then. "You serious?"

I nodded. "Completely," I replied, taking my third Rickey and sipping it, knowing that I would have to pace myself, and even though I despised its taste, I no longer cared. "He claims that the only men he trusts me with are our sons, his father, and my brothers."

"He honestly thinks you'd cheat on him?"

I shrugged, continuing to sip my drink. "My older brothers, Lip and Ian, even said that it was a possibility. And just tonight, my sister Debbie said that she's seen us at The Alibi, and that the way you're looking at me..." I sighed, sipping my drink. "I don't know..."

"What's wrong with the way I look at you? I was taught to look at people when they're talking to me. I don't see a problem."

"She claims that you're looking at me like you're attracted to me or something..."

Tommy sighed then, finishing his drink and placing it back onto the bar, before summoning the bartender to make him another one. "Didn't know you liked gin..."

I blinked, confused as to why he was avoiding the question. "I don't," I replied, finishing my drink and nodding to the bartender for a fourth. "It just dulls the senses... But why haven't you answered my question?"

Tommy laughed slightly, getting his drink and sipping it. "Keep forgetting you work for this firm," he said quietly. "I'm always seeing you at the diner, in your casual clothes..." He looked me up and down then, regarding the red silk dress that Fiona had left behind, and that I was now wearing for the night. "You look beautiful tonight."

I felt my cheeks flame then, likely matching my dress. "Thanks, that's nice of you to say," I replied, a cold sense of reality forming in the pit of my stomach. "It's not true, is it?" I asked him then, straight out, my voice trembling.

He sighed again, sipping his drink. "What?"

"Shit, Tommy," I said, my voice continuing to tremble then as I stared up at him. "We're friends—you were there for me when I got out of jail... I mean you're not... You can't be... You can't be attracted to me..."

Tommy bit at his lower lip then—a fleeting, yet meaningful moment—before he lowered his eyes and stared into his drink. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, Murph."

"I fucking knew it."

Turning around then, I saw Nicholas standing behind me, and I felt my blood run cold. "Don't do this, Nicholas," I said to him, and immediately moved to hold him back.

"You fucker," Nicholas said, moving me to one side as Debbie immediately came over and held me back and away from the fray as my husband advanced upon Tommy then. "That's my fucking wife, who I'm fucking in love with, and you think that you can just waltz in here and try and take her away from me?!"

Tommy immediately held up his hands. "Hey, man, this isn't what this is. I haven't crossed any lines with her, I swear..."

"I don't give a fuck what you're swearing!" Nicholas growled back. "You're going to stay away from my wife, Matthews."

"Nicholas!" I cried out then, and he snapped his head around to look at me. "Leave Tommy the fuck alone! He's my friend!"

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Your friend," he said, his tone filled with sarcastic laughter. "He wants to liquor you up good so that he can fuck you, Murphy. That's all this is."

Without hesitation, I reached out and slapped Nicholas across the face. "How fucking dare you?!" I demanded then, feeling my eyes fill with tears. "You're my husband, and I would never do that to you! I've said as much..."

"Then tell me you love me, Murph," Nicholas replied. "Just say it."

I shook my head. "I can't, and I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because, in this moment, I don't love you," I replied, my voice trembling. "In this moment, all you're doing is making a fool out of yourself and me. I hate it when you're controlling and I want this behavior to stop. I've promised that I'm not cheating on you, and your refusal to believe me hurts me more than you'll ever know." I turn to look at Debbie then and put my arm around her. "Come on, Debs. Let's go."

"And me?" Nicholas asked, following us outside the employee café. "Don't you want me to go with you, too, Murph?"

"Go to Allie and Hugo's tonight, Nicholas. I need some space from you, and, clearly, you need space from me, too," I said, forcing my voice not to break then as Debbie and I grabbed our coats and left the party.

. . .

As I was driving home from work approximately a week later, I was shocked to receive a text from Ian, and decided, at long last, to open up the lines of communication. It was merely a one-sentence text with a handful of words, asking if I would come over that night. Shrugging off my suspicions, I accepted the invitation. I would stop at home first, dropping off the groceries I'd bought, and make sure that Iana, Clayton, and Fionn were all right with the trip, but I knew that they would be.

Twenty minutes later, we made our way over, me holding the boys in each arm while Iana skipped merrily ahead of me. She knew how to use a key, and I'd given mine to her so that she could let us into the house. As we stepped inside and into the living room, I was surprised to see not only Ian waiting there, but Liam, Lip, and Nicholas as well. After the night of the Halloween ball, I hadn't seen much of my husband, so it was a shocker to see him there.

"Liam, why don't you take Iana upstairs?" I asked him, knowing that the boys would just sleep in the next room. I spotted a day bed already set up in the kitchen, and watched as Liam led Iana upstairs before I set the boys down for a nap in the kitchen. I momentarily glanced at the table where they had been born—truly a simpler time—before shoving the thought from my mind and turning back into the living room. "I assumed you all convened here to yell at me," I said, crossing my arms and refusing to leave the doorway of the kitchen. "So, let's have it. What the fuck is this all about?"

Nicholas and Lip immediately turned to Ian, who regarded them for a moment before he got to his feet. My twin crossed the room towards me then, gently taking me by the hands and staring at me for a moment. He sighed after a moment, dropping my hands and stepping away from me, exasperation radiating off his body.

"How many beers have you had today, Murph?"

I rolled my eyes. "Two," I replied, which was the honest truth. "I had to pick up the kids today and I didn't want to be fucked up for that, so I had two."

Ian dragged a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said, "but that's not why we're here."

"Okay," I said, leaning back against the wall. "Talk to me, then. Why are we here?"

"We're here because of what happened on Halloween, Murph," Nicholas said quietly, speaking for the first time.

I rolled my eyes. "Fucking again with Tommy?"

"For the good of your marriage, listen to him," Lip said, before clapping Nicholas on the back, in an essence, urging him forward. "Go ahead, man."

I rolled my eyes, reaching into my pocket for a cigarette and lighting it up. "I don't know what the fuck you want from me here, Nicholas..."

My husband sighed as he hesitantly walked over to me. "Tommy admitted that he was attracted to you, Murph. I won't stand for it."

I took my cigarette out of my mouth, dragging my free hand across my face before returning it there and continued to puff on it. "Look, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Me and Tommy are just friends. Why the fuck can't you let it alone?"

"Because he fucking wants you, Murph!" Nicholas said, his voice restrained then. "I saw it in his eyes last night, like he was sizing you up or something, or that he wanted to eat you alive. I'll bet if you were the only ones in the room, he would've picked you up and fucked you, right there, on top of the bar."

I rolled my eyes, continuing to puff on my cigarette. "And, if he'd even try to do that, I'd beat the ever-loving shit out of him," I replied.

Nicholas scoffed. "No, you wouldn't have..."

"Do you hear yourself right now?!" I cried out, crossing my fingers that the boys wouldn't wake up because of our shouting. "You're saying that I'd fuck anyone who isn't a family member! Are you insane?! We're married! I'm your wife!"

"For the record, one of those statements isn't..." Lip began, raising his index finger, and Nicholas and I immediately glared at him. "Not helping, I know. Sorry..." He said, lowering his index finger instantly.

"Understand this, Nicholas," I said, staring at my husband then, and his eyes locked to mine. "As your wife, I would never fuck anyone unless there was a fucking gun to my head. And, even then, I would try and fight the son of a bitch who did that, or I would just take the bullet to the brain. Because I'd never cheat on you. Ever."

Nicholas sighed. "Will you stop seeing Tommy?"

I rolled my eyes. "Without trust, there is no marriage," I said quietly. "Do you trust me, Nicholas? Tell me now."

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Of course I trust you."

I nodded. "Then, you need to let me make my own choices," I replied. "So what if Tommy's attracted to me? He knows that I'm married and that nothing will ever happen between us. So, you've got nothing to worry about. End of story," I said, my voice firm, so that Nicholas would know that the subject was closed.

. . .

I was a bit moody on Thanksgiving, and not only because of Fiona's refusal to come back from New York to celebrate it with us, but because Nicholas and I had barely spoken since our latest confrontation on the matter of my friendship with Tommy. We would talk about the kids and my inability to make a decision about staying with the firm and devoting all my time to the diner. It was also discussed that I should probably enter a rehab program about my drinking, and when I say "discussed", I mean that Nicholas lectured me about the supposed benefits it would bring to the family, and never once did he ask my opinion on the matter.

We arrived at the house at noon to help with the preparations of Thanksgiving dinner, and Liam was the designated child minder, as he sat on the couch surrounded by Iana and Franny on both sides, while the boys napped in a day bed. I trekked into the kitchen, getting right in there with my pre-pealed potatoes and began to make the official side dish. I worked quickly, while Nicholas made brussels sprouts, Debbie the stuffing, and Ian and Lip playfully argued about who was going to carve the turkey. Kev and V arrived shortly thereafter, putting an end to the banter, as Kev made it known that he would be the one to do it.

"How are you, sweetie?" V said, after she had gotten Amy and Jemma settled in the living room with Liam, and embracing me. "Okay?"

I sighed, already on my third beer, but feeling good. "Yeah. You let me know if you ever want to come back to the diner and help out. A spot is always open for you."

V grinned as she pulled back. "I just might take you up on that. I heard recently that your amount of customers is up. How did you manage to pull that off?"

I smiled, sipping my beer. "Just lucky, I guess."

Nicholas coughed loudly from the other side of the room. "It's because she's now catering to the police force."

V turned to look at me, raising her eyebrows. "Is this about the famous Tommy Matthews? Kev says you guys are in The Alibi together at least once a week..."

I nodded. "Tommy and I are friends. We hang out."

"Of course, I was uncomfortable with it from the beginning," Nicholas said, cutting across my final sentence. "But, I became even more pissed when Tommy admitted that he's fucking attracted to Murphy."

"Jesus—he admit that to you?" Kev asked. "That's low..."

"No, he admitted it to Murphy," Nicholas replied, turning to talk to Kev directly. "But I was there and caught the end of the conversation."

Kev sighed. "That's rough, man. I'm sorry."

"Kev, you're a married man," Nicholas said.

Kev laughed aloud then. "Technically, that's true. Why?"

"What would you do if V was hanging out with a guy, who was confirmed to be attracted to her, but she insisted that they were just friends?"

Kev sighed. "I wouldn't like it," he admitted, and V rolled her eyes at me. "But, I also trust my wife, Nicholas. Since I trust her, I would trust her to tell whatever-his-name is to keep his dick in his pants, because nothing would ever happen between them."

I spread my hands, glaring at Nicholas. "You see?! Kev trusts V. Why can't you afford me the same liberties, Nicholas?!"

Nicholas stopped what he was doing then and crossed the room towards me, standing barely a foot away from me, the rage radiating from his body and comingling with mine. "Because I can't fucking trust Tommy," he said. "I'm afraid that he's going to fucking take you away from me and I can't fucking stand it!"

"I'm my own person, for fuck's sake!" I cried out. I rolled my eyes then, finishing my bottle of beer and throwing it into the bin. "I wouldn't do something like that to you! How many times do we have to have this conversation?!"

Nicholas scoffed. "You're drunk already."

"Shut the fuck up," I replied, shoving myself away from him and advancing upon the fridge, taking my fourth bottle of the day from inside it and popping off the cap. "What?" I demanded of him then as he just stared at me. "I've told you ten thousand times that I'm not fucking Tommy. I mean, I don't know what else needs to be said here."

Nicholas approached the fridge then, standing opposite me, his hand curling into a fist. "You've never fucked Tommy?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Never," I replied, bringing the bottle to my lips and drinking it. "I guess a part of you needs to believe that I'd spread my legs for any man, huh? You probably think I'm fucking Kev..."

"For the record," Kev said quickly, "I haven't touched her."

"You're right, he hasn't," V said, looking shocked that I would even go there.

"Kev is practically your family. I know you wouldn't do anything with him," Nicholas said, and I could tell how far back he was restraining himself from blowing a gasket. "But I still don't fucking trust Tommy..."

"I don't give a fuck anymore, Nicholas. Because, no matter what I say, it wouldn't matter, because you've already made up your mind that I let Tommy fuck me hard!"

Without warning, Nicholas raised his fist then and slammed it into the fridge, barely half an inch from my ear. "Never, ever, say that, Murph..."

"That's enough!" Ian shouted then, grabbing Nicholas and dragging him away from me and across the room. "Go outside and cool off!" he yelled.

"Fine," Nicholas replied, pulling away from Ian and stepping out onto the back porch.

Ian crossed over to me then. "You okay?"

I sighed. "Fine," I said.

Ian looked down at the bottle. "This needs to stop."

I averted my eyes from his. "Which part?"

"All of it," he replied.

I looked up at him then and attempted to force a smile to my lips. "Happy Thanksgiving," I replied, my tone sardonic.

. . .

I stared up at the building then, exactly twenty-four hours later, and attempted to count the bricks that were layered precariously over one another. _Maybe the person who had laid them had been drunk themselves_ , I reasoned with a smirk. My hands were deep in my pockets; it was perfect sweater, scarf, and hat weather, and I knew I would need to get mine and the kids' winter clothes out of the storage bins in the attic soon...

"See you found the place okay."

I turned around slowly then, spotting Lip walking towards me then, a cigarette caught between his teeth. I kept my smirk right on my face as I reached out, taking the cigarette for a moment, puffing on it, before I returned it to him. "Wasn't that hard."

Lip nodded. "Feeling okay?"

I shrugged. "No."

My brother nodded, almost finishing the cigarette before offering me the end of it. "You ready for this?" he wanted to know.

I scoffed then, inhaling the last bit of tobacco before outing it on the concrete below our feet. "Is anyone ever ready?"

Lip smiled. "Some are, some aren't, I guess." He put an arm around my shoulders. "But I'm going to be right here with you, Murph. Having a family and friend support system always helps people who need it. Trust me."

I gave him a nod then. "I trust you," I replied.

"Should we go on?"

I forced my neck up and down again. "Yeah, I guess we should..."

Lip and I stepped inside then, and I stayed by his side as we walked along the hallway briefly and into the assigned room. We sat side by side in the offered folding chairs, and I removed my hat from my head and scarf from around my neck. Name tags were given out, and I put mine on my sweater, while Lip told everyone who I was, and it was a comforting thing, knowing that everyone was in the same boat I was. The shakes hadn't begun yet that day, and I wondered when they would ultimately plague me again...

"We have a new face here today," said the woman running this thing. "Hello," she said with a smile to me. "Would you care to introduce yourself?"

I raised my eyes completely then, knowing that I could no longer allow myself to be so tunnel-visioned in my life, and managed to force a genuine smile to my lips for a moment, before courage failed me completely. I looked at Lip for a moment, who nodded at me, and I knew that it was now or never. I wetted my lips then, wanting another moment of hesitation before I allowed myself to speak, knowing that the first step was to admit your problem...

"Hi, I'm Murphy," I said, my voice shaking, and I felt immediate relief when Lip but his arm around my shoulders, "and I'm an alcoholic."

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. It Happened One Night

Chapter Six: It Happened One Night

I stood outside after the meeting, weighing the silver chip in one hand, while I kept a cigarette firmly between my lips. When Lip had finished greeting his friends, he stepped outside as well, coming to stand beside me. Automatically, I handed over my cigarette to him, which he took a few puffs from, before he handed it back to me. I sighed then, feeling exhausted at the notion of what I'd done, and leaned my head down so that it rested on Lip's shoulder.

"Look, I know I'm not to that step yet, but I'm sorry," I said quietly.

Lip turned his head then, leaning down so that it met mine. "Yeah?" he asked, and I knew that there was a chuckle hidden in his tone somewhere. "Sorry for what?"

I inhale deeply on my cigarette before I pull it back, handing it over to him. "Sorry I was acting like such a bitch," I said, my voice soft. "I was a total bitch to you, while I was under the influence, and I can't take that back. I am so sorry..."

Lip scoffed then and I lifted my head, watching as he smoked for a moment before he returned my cigarette to me. "Hey, we're from a family of addicts," he said simply. "I'm just sorry you got caught up into the web."

I gave a nod then, thankful that I wouldn't have to give up smoking—well, for the time being, anyway. "Well, I guess a part of me is happy that I don't have to do it alone..."

Lip smiled. "I guess a part of me is happy that I don't have to do it alone either."

I laughed aloud then, shoving him away from me. "Fuck you," I replied, finding that I couldn't stop laughing, and was pleased when he joined me. "Guess we all need a stupid big brother to keep us in line now and again..."

Lip threw his arm around me then, kissing my forehead. "You're right, Murph. And you know what? I'm not giving up on you."

I sighed, leaning into his chest, feeling secure for the first time in a long time. "I know you won't give up on me, Lip... Although I think that Nicholas might."

"Yeah?" he asked, pulling back slightly so that he could read my expression. "Why do you think he'd give up on you?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's just so convinced that I'm cheating with Tommy..."

Lip cocked an eyebrow. "Have you?"

Immediately, I shook my head. "No!"

Lip sighed. "Murph, a part of AA is being honest."

I made a noncommittal response, rolling my shoulders. "He says that I'm different... You know, since the arrest..."

"Do you think you're different?"

I swallowed then, allowing the question to wash over me. "Yeah," I said after a moment of silence, and the acknowledgement that Nicholas had been right all along stung. "I mean, I feel different, you know?"

He nodded. "You were arrested and you spent the night in jail. Plus, you became friends with the guy who arrested you, and who gave you a bloody nose..."

I rolled my eyes, puffing on my cigarette for a moment before I handed it back to him. "And you know as well as I do that he was just doing his job..."

"I don't give a shit if he was just doing his job, Murph," Lip replied, his tone impatient as he sucked in the tobacco into his lungs. "It wouldn't matter to me. The point is, you're my sister, and I was fucking scared shitless when I found out that you kept that fucker in your life. I don't trust him, and neither do Nicholas and Ian. We're worried about you, Murph, because, let's face it, we thought you were responsible, but you're just..."

"Irresponsible?" I asked, taking my cigarette back from him and allowing it to sit between my teeth for a moment.

Lip rolled his eyes. "No, not irresponsible. You're just a fucking Gallagher."

I pocketed my chip then, using my free hand to drag across my face. "Yeah, well, we knew that piece of information already..."

"The point is, Murph, that we Gallagher's have a knack for getting into trouble. Back when you first showed up, before we knew who you were, you just had yourself to worry about. And then you found out who you were, and siblings fell into your lap, and then you found out that you were expecting Iana. In a span of less than a year, you discovered your identity, inherited half a dozen siblings, and became a mother. Three things happened to you, Murph, all at the age of twenty-one, and it's a lot to handle..."

"Not to mention my past," I said, handing the cigarette back to Lip as I shook my head. "And Tina's inability to tell me that I was adopted, and her lackluster choice in husband, but that's putting it mildly..."

"They ever reach out to you again? After you sent Tina away?"

I shuddered. "Ugh. No, thank god. And I hope they never do."

"You were able to overcome all that, Murph—in the first twenty-plus-years of your life, you went through hell and back, but you survived. And now, this is just something else you've got to work through, but I know you can do it."

"Yeah?" I asked, taking back the cigarette and puffing on it gently, as we were nearing towards the end of the stick. "How?"

"Well, because I overcame it," Lip replied simply, taking the butt of the cigarette and finishing it quickly before stomping it out with his foot. "Sure, I had a few slip-ups here and there, but I worked through them and was able to achieve sobriety." My brother smiled then, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. "I know you can do that, too, Murph."

I sighed, shaking my head. "I know I can overcome my sobriety, Lip..."

"But?" he asked, sensing the hesitation behind my tone.

I raised my eyes to his then, knowing that my voice now stood to break. "But I don't think I can overcome the lies that Nicholas insists to believe about me..."

Lip smiled. "It'll all work itself out, Murph..."

I bit my lip. "Will it?" I asked him. "Or is Nicholas going to just throw in the towel and end up leaving me? Everybody always leaves," I said quietly.

. . .

I drove home later that morning, shocked that I was still feeling physically okay as the alcohol proceeded to leave my system. I knew that I needed to absorb the message that I'd gotten that day, of taking it one day at a time, and I also knew that I needed to be more communicative with Nicholas—to force myself, if I had to. The fact that the only form of conversations that we'd had recently were about my drinking, my supposed affair with Tommy, and sporadic ones about our children, were, I knew, unacceptable, and, if we wanted our marriage to work, we truly had to come together as husband and wife and work through them.

I parked outside in my customary spot, turning and looking up at the house for a moment, and spotting Nicholas in the window, where I noticed that he was holding Iana. I watched as my daughter's lips moved, and Nicholas threw his head back at whatever it was that she'd said. It was just after eleven o'clock, and I knew that the boys would've been upstairs napping, and it truly touched me that Nicholas really looked like Iana's father in that moment. Not just physically—as most people thought that, on sight alone, he was her biological father—but, it was in that moment that it became emotionally true for me, too. Yes, I had been out of touch recently, and it was only by seeing that my daughter was no longer just my daughter anymore that make it a wake-up call.

I slipped out of my car then and locked it, circling the vehicle and letting myself inside the front gate and through the yard. Bits of frost lingered from the night before on the patches of grass, and I knew then that we would likely have to begin decorating for Christmas soon. Pushing the thought of Christmas from my mind—which brought back the memory of Nicholas's proposal and our marriage the day after said holiday—I walked up the stairs of the porch and stuck my key into the lock, turning it quickly and pushing the door open to let myself inside. As I stood on the threshold for a moment, I watched as Nicholas danced with Iana in his arms, and my daughter laughed at the faces he was making, and recalled when Nicholas had first shown me the house, when I was still pregnant with the boys, and a wave of nostalgia for the simpler days of our relationship flowed through me...

"Mama!" Iana cried out then, spotting me as I stepped inside completely and shut the front door behind me. Iana quickly managed to make her needs known that she wanted down from her father's arms and dashed over to me, and I smiled at my three-year-old, immediately bending down and scooping her up. "I missed you, Mama. Where were you?"

"That's a good question, Iana," Nicholas put in, waiting where he was as I stepped into the living room. "Where was Mama this morning? Maybe she was with her friend Tommy, but you know how much Daddy doesn't like them to hang out..."

I rolled my eyes, not appreciating that Nicholas had decided to bring Iana into this without consulting me first, although, in his mind, I likely had it coming. I forced a smile onto my face then as Iana turned back to look at me, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sweetheart, Mama has some things to discuss with Daddy. Why don't you go upstairs and play for a while, okay? I just hope you remember..."

"To be quiet because the boys are napping," Iana replied, grinning up at me, and my heart quickly hammered in my chest then at the notion that she resembled her biological father so much when she smiled. "I know, Mama," she assured me as I lowered her to the ground, her pink stockinged feet barely making any noise as she dashed up the stairs.

"Really?" I asked as soon as she was out of earshot, as I turned to my husband. "You really brought our daughter into our disagreement about Tommy?"

My husband shrugged at me then. "So? You know as well as I do how wise she is beyond her years, Murph. Besides, she senses things..."

"That wasn't your decision to make," I said firmly, scoffing then as I turned around to take off my hat, coat, and scarf, which I deliberately took two times as long to unwind from around my neck as I rolled my eyes. "Seriously. I know you adopted her, Nicholas, and I thank god for that every day, but you have no right to call the shots solo with her."

"You know as well as I do that you've been calling solo shots for a while, Murph."

I turned back around and stared at him then, placing my hands on my hips. "If this is about me taking over as manager at the diner, I don't want to hear it."

"No, of course you wouldn't want to hear it," Nicholas fired back as I stomped past him and into the kitchen. "God forbid someone tells the great Murphy Gallagher that she made a bad call about something!"

I rounded on him then, nearly falling backwards when I saw how close he was to me. "You know as well as I do that I know I'm not perfect," I said, jabbing my finger into his chest. "Please. I had that hammered into me from the age of five until the time I was twenty-one when I escaped my hellish existence. You still don't know the half of what I went through, Nicholas, but believe me, it would make your skin crawl."

Nicholas threw his hands into the air. "That's always your fallback, Murph, and I'm sick and tired of hearing about your sob story from your past!"

I backed away from him then and stepped into the kitchen, and moved to organize one of our cabinets—wanting a distraction, any distraction... "You knew I had a fucked past when we got closer, Nicholas, and became friends," I said, trying and failing to keep my voice from shaking. "You had ample opportunity to get out of hearing about it, but you told me you wanted me to be your girlfriend, and then your fiancée, and then your wife. Now, I'm the mother of your children and your wife, so you goddamn well better give a shit about my past."

"I don't know much of anything about you anymore, Murphy," Nicholas said then, and I sensed the vulnerability in his tone and his expression. "I just... I want my wife back," he said, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest when he turned me around to face him, and I was shocked to see that his eyes filled with tears. "You've changed since your arrest, Murph, and when you started hanging out with Tommy, all I could think was how he doesn't have all this negative baggage, and that maybe..."

"What?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared up at him, willing for my voice not to tremble. "What did you think, Nicholas?"

"That maybe you wanted a ticket out," he said quietly. "I became consumed with the notion that you would think that, somehow, Tommy was better for you than I was—clean record, even temper... Fuck, if the roles were reversed and someone accused me of fucking you, I probably would've torn their head off..."

I shook my head. "No, you wouldn't have," I said, deliberately attempting to keep my voice calm and even now—I wanted us to work through this, really, I did. "You're a better man than you give yourself credit for, Nicholas."

He sighed then, lowering his eyes. "And you're a better wife than I give you credit for, Murph. I can't explain why I've been so insistent that you've been fucking Tommy..."

"I haven't—"

"I know that," he replied, raising his eyes to mine, "and I should've believed you when you told me the first time. I also should have trusted your word on it. You're honest, Murph, and if you were fucking someone behind my back, you'd come right out and say it, or admit to it eventually, because you hate it whenever someone picks at something you've done or supposedly done repeatedly for one answer..."

I sighed. "Why can't you just accept the fact that you're the only person I've been with since before Josh proposed to me?" I asked him. "I'd stopped sleeping with him from the time I found out about Chrissy. You're the only one I've been with since then... Meaning that I've been sleeping with you exclusively for over two and a half years. Two years and almost eight months, if we're being technical," I said, smirking up at him then.

Nicholas sighed. "I know you love me, Murph. Really, I know you do. I guess I just wish that you could say it more..."

I stood on my toes then, pressing my forehead to his. "You know I do," I said gently, "but I'm just not wired that way. The first person who told me that they loved me was Jessica, and I never said it back to her—I couldn't say it back. The second person was Lip, and I couldn't say it back to him either, because it was the night I fucked Mickey, so I already knew that Lip was my brother, so of course I couldn't say it back..."

"Who's the first person you could say it back to?"

I scoffed then, smiling. "Ian," I said simply. "I think it was easier, because we understood each other's lives so much, and we didn't even need to talk about it. Of course, we did end up talking eventually, but I think that because it wasn't a romantic love, it was just easier. I said it to Fiona and Debs, and Liam, of course, but it took longer with Lip."

"And Carl?"

I laughed. "Sure, I love Carl," I replied. "He's my brother. I just don't see or talk to him as much as I would like. He has his commitments, and I understand that."

"But, just to reiterate, you love me?" he asked. "Because I love you a whole hell of a lot, Murph, and I don't want us to lose...well, us..."

I smiled up at him. "Of course I love you," I replied. "You're my husband. I don't want to lose us either. Ever."

Nicholas reached out then, taking ahold of my face in his hands. "Where have you been?" he whispered to me then, searching my face.

"At a meeting," I replied.

"The day after Thanksgiving? And I thought I worked too much..."

I shook my head. "Check my pocket, you weirdo."

Nicholas gave me a perplexed expression then and reached into my indicated pocket, taking out the silver chip that was inside, and looked it over. "What's this?"

I smiled then, and he raised his eyes to mine. "An AA chip," I replied, and he looked shocked at my declaration. "Lip and I went to a meeting together. He's helping me through this, Nicholas. I needed him to be there for me today, and he was. I'm going to continue to work the program with his help, and I am going to get sober. I lost sight of who I was, Nicholas, and I need you to understand me when I say this—I need another identity than just your wife, or Iana and the boys' mother. I know it's a part of who I am, but it's not all I am. I need you to understand that I'm me and being me is something you need to accept."

He sighed. "Does being you include being friends with Tommy?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah," I replied. "Because that's all we are, Nicholas. Friends. And if you're going to push me away for having a friend, then you and I have bigger problems..."

Nicholas lowered his arms to my waist then and pulled me length-wise against him, and I gasped aloud then, my heart hammering in my throat all over again. "I'm not going to push you away, Murph—I'll never push you away. I love you."

I smiled then. "I know," I replied. "I love you, too."

My husband smiled back at me then, pulling me the rest of the way towards him and slamming his mouth onto mine. It was an amazing feeling—our hearts hammering as one then as he lifted me slightly, and I felt my hands dart out and onto the buttons onto his shirt, pulling them apart to get at his ripped chest. He didn't need telling twice, and proceeded to get me undressed as quickly as I did him, and I wrapped my legs around his mutually naked torso when the time came to do so. It was an intoxicating sensation—yanking my husband towards me, as we made sweet, sweet love in our kitchen, in our house, while our children were upstairs.

I ran my hands along his back, taking my lips from his and pressing them onto his shoulder, feeling the air escaping my lips then as I struggled to breath. I pulled him closer still, never wanting him to stop touching me, wanting me, loving me, and the headiness of the entire situation nearly caught me off-guard. We hadn't done anything this spontaneous since before the boys were born, or before we were even engaged. In fact, the last time I remembered this being so amazing was when I'd gotten pregnant with the boys.

I made a mental note then, as I recalled that Nicholas hadn't used anything, to obtain a morning after pill from a pharmacy. Despite my husband wanting another child, he and I still had a long way to go in getting our marriage to work. Perhaps, one day in the future, I'd be open to having a fourth child, but for now, I was perfectly happy with the three we had, and the notion that he could slam into me deeply, in the kitchen, while I quickly muffled my sounds of ecstasy with his lips against mine, was all I could ask for.

. . .

When December arrived, I began to seriously consider my standing at the firm—or lack thereof—as well as my time at the diner. I had habitually checked my work email, ones from Fiona piling up, and I knew that I needed to make a decision about what I wanted. Did I want to be in a job where I wasn't doing what I signed up to do, and seemed to be underappreciated since I'd officially joined the family? Or, did I want the hustle and bustle of a restaurant job, despite the fact that it was a significant decrease in salary, but, at the end of the day, was a job that I truly loved?

Pushing the thought from my mind, I made a mental note to decide for my New Year's resolution, and threw myself into planning for Christmas. I knew that this was likely to be one of the first Christmases that Iana would remember, and I would do my best not to spoil it for her. I owed it to my daughter, to the boys, to Nicholas, and to the rest of my family to grab sobriety by the ears, and never let it go. I would not let it go, I kept telling myself over and over again, as I divided my time between the firm, the restaurant, and planning for the holidays. I would not allow myself to give up my sobriety, and would cleave to it as if my life depended on it. And it truly did, I reasoned with myself, for Nicholas had said more than once how pleased he was to have the real me back.

When Christmas arrived, I remembered again how Nicholas had proposed to me in the early hours of the morning, and my heart filled with warmth as he and I fell asleep in each other's arms that night. We went to bed as early as possible, having finished the present wrapping just an hour after Iana was in bed. It was a relief, knowing that everything was in place, and that, hopefully, Iana would let us sleep a little the following morning. Perhaps she would ignore what she thought was reindeer on the roof, and that she would wait for the sun to come up so that her father and I could have our game faces on.

Just after seven, Nicholas and I were awoken by a squeal from down the hallway, followed by the creak of a door opening, and slippered feet on the hallway floor. Our bedroom door opened shortly thereafter, and Iana blitzed into the room, hopping up onto the bed and jumping up and down excitedly. Nicholas and I smiled at one another before looking indulgently up at our daughter's happiness.

"Christmas!" she shouted.

"All right, all right, we're up," Nicholas said, getting to his feet.

"Get down now, sweetheart," I said gently, getting out of bed and making a grab for her. "We have to fetch the boys. Why don't you come with us?"

Iana nodded. "Okay!" she said.

The three of us trekked to the nursery then, and smiled as the boys sat up automatically in their cribs, raising up their arms to be picked up. Nicholas and I brought them over to the double-sized changing station, changing them and freshening them up before we slipped on their Christmas booties and brought them downstairs. I smiled then as Iana skipped ahead, squealing at the Christmas tree and the large haul that Santa had brought us.

Nicholas and I set the boys on the ground, painstakingly bringing their presents forward and unwrapping them carefully on their behalf. I watched as they both watched in awe at the brightly-colored toys Nicholas and I had bought for them and for Iana, and was pleased that all three of our children seemed pleased in the celebrations. I smiled, knowing that, once the presents were opened and we had had breakfast, that I would need to leave the house for an hour or so to meet Lip for a meeting.

Once breakfast was served—chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausages, just what Iana had requested—I went upstairs to take a shower. Once I'd finished, I vaguely heard Nicholas washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, while Iana played with her new toys, and I assumed helped her father keep an eye on the boys. I stepped back into our bedroom then, grabbing a pair of jeans, a tank top, a sweater, socks, and my boots, getting them all on before I returned to the bathroom to towel-dry my hair. Once it was somewhat presentable, I brushed my teeth and went downstairs, kissing everyone goodbye before putting on my coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and earmuffs before I stepped outside.

I texted Lip as I locked up behind me and headed down the stairs, letting him know that I was on my way and would be there shortly. I got into my car and drove off, feeling pleased that I had actually eaten my full breakfast that morning. Lip's friend and fellow AA member, Brad, had been right—sweets really are a whole different ballgame once you were sober. I arrived at the building and parked, getting out of my car and spotting Lip just outside, cigarette between his teeth, and smiled to myself as I stepped forward.

"Hey."

Lip looked up then and smiled. "Hey."

I approached him then, smiling as he held out the cigarette. "Thanks," I said, rolling my shoulders as I popped it into my mouth. "Merry Christmas."

"You, too," he said, looking me over again. "You look tired."

I scoffed. "Gee, thanks."

"Sorry," he said, throwing up his hands. "Just concerned."

I handed him back the cigarette and sighed. "Oh, well, you know. I'm working on making my marriage work, raising three kids, and I'm a month sober today...so."

Lip grinned. "I knew you could do a month, Murph!"

I stuck out my tongue at him, taking back the cigarette. "I'm actually going to talk today. I know I really only spoke on day one, but I've got some things to get off my chest..."

Lip regarded me then. "You okay?"

I sighed. "Gotta be, don't I?"

Lip and I walked inside shortly thereafter, and made our way into the assigned room. Brad was there to greet us, along with a handful of regulars, and we took our seats when the time came to do so. I kept close beside Lip as always; other than Brad, I really wasn't wholly familiar with anyone else in the meetings, so staying beside my brother was a safe bet.

When my turn came, I sat up a bit straighter in my chair and tried to smile. "Hi, I'm Murphy, and I'm an alcoholic," I said.

"Hi, Murphy," everyone replied.

"I had a fight with my husband earlier this week," I said, feeling my fingers inevitably knotting together. "His parents haven't been giving me meaty assignments at work, and I think that they don't trust me because of my alcoholism... They likely wanted to turn over a new leaf with me, because of the holidays, and invited us to their ski cabin." I scoffed then. "I didn't even know they had a ski cabin, but that's beside the point. I said 'no', because I didn't want to go, and it turned into an argument about me supposedly hating my husband's parents. We've never left Chicago for the holidays... I mean, tomorrow is our first wedding anniversary, and I know that marriage is about compromise, but I don't think I should have to go somewhere where I'd feel uncomfortable..." I sighed, dragging my hand across my lips then, aching for another cigarette, but forcing the thought from my mind. "Anyway, we've made it a point not to fight and argue for the sake of the kids, because they're so young, but I know my daughter knows that there's something wrong, and I'm scared she'll figure it out..."

I left the meeting as soon as I'd received my one month chip, stepping outside, and feeling a sigh escape through me then when I saw that it was snowing. I pulled my coat more closely around me then, fumbling in my pocket for my own stash of cigarettes, and lighting one up. The tobacco soothed me then, and I turned around as Lip stepped through the doors and stepped towards me, concern in his eyes.

"You okay?"

I sighed, handing over the cigarette. "Gotta be," I joked.

"Murph."

I swallowed then, considering. "I really don't think I want to be a lawyer anymore, but I think if I tell Nicholas that, he'll freak..."

"So, you want to take over the diner, then?"

I shrugged, taking back the cigarette from him. "I don't know. I guess that would be the logical thing to do at this point," I replied. "I mean, Nicholas and I bought the house outright, so we don't have to go making payments on it or anything... Plus, we've got a decent amount in savings, so we're not hurting for money, but..."

"You want to be happy."

I looked up at my brother and smiled, handing over the cigarette. "In an essence, yeah, I guess that's the case. In the beginning, and even after I had Iana, Nicholas and I had the hottest cases around. And then I got pregnant with the boys and went back and forth with Nicholas so much and I guess Allie and Hugo didn't think I was a good risk anymore. And now I'm their daughter-in-law who doesn't even want them around... I don't know," I said, taking the cigarette back and inhaling deeply.

"And what do you know for sure, Murph?"

I put my arm around Lip's shoulders. "I know that it's Christmas, and that you and I should be with family right now." I finished the cigarette then and pulled on him. "Come on, Lip. Let's get over to the house. I'll text Nicholas and tell him to bring the kids and the presents."

"Sounds good to me," Lip replied.

We got to the house within fifteen minutes, and I was pleased to see that Ian was already putting Christmas dinner together with Nicholas's and Debbie's help. Liam, meanwhile, was on the couch with Franny, Iana, and the boys were in the day bed as Lip and I trooped into the kitchen, all smiles. I beamed as Debbie and Ian stepped forward for hugs, and I even kissed Nicholas in greeting as Kev and V arrived with the girls shortly thereafter.

"How are you?" V asked, pulling me into a hug. "Okay?"

I pulled back after a moment and showed her my chip. "One month sober."

V grinned. "Baby, I'm so proud of you," she said, pulling me back into her arms. "This mean we're gonna lose you as a customer?"

"A drinking customer," I joked. "But I'll come for water and food."

"We'll take what we can get," Kev said, and I turned around to hug him. "I hope Lip's being a good brother and keeping an eye on you in those meetings."

"He is," I confirmed.

"I think the diamond scares them off," Lip joked.

"Good," Nicholas replied, pulling me against him then and resting his head on my shoulder. "I hope the impressive ring I bought my wife scares them off..."

I scoffed then, and yet I giggled when he spun me around and kissed me again. "You're singing a different tune," I said, another giggle escaping my lips.

He laughed. "It's been known to happen."

I rolled my eyes, and moved to help Debbie pull the table into the living room, so that we'd all have room to sit. "Debs?"

She looked up at me. "Yeah?"

I walked around the table then, once we'd gotten it in place, and stood in front of her. "Look, I'm sorry about Halloween and Thanksgiving," I said quietly. "My ugly side came out on both those nights, and as your older sister, it was inexcusable. I'm sorry you had to see that and be privy to my mistakes."

Debbie grinned, pulling me into a hug. "I get it, Murph. Really." She pulled back then and narrowed her eyes for a moment. "But don't let it happen again."

I shook my head at her. "I won't. Promise."

My younger sister's glare melted away then as she smiled at me. "I know," she replied. "I know you won't let it happen again."

The preparations for dinner continued into the afternoon and early evening, and just as I'd put the finishing touches on the table, and smelled the heavenly prime rib cooking in the oven, I felt a hand on my shoulder then. Turning around, I smiled at Nicholas, and blinked as he motioned that he wanted to go upstairs. Shrugging and looking around, and seeing that everyone was occupied, I followed him, making our way towards my old bedroom. The memory of the two of us hooking up in there during Iana's birthday party flashed through my mind, but I was relieved when Nicholas opted to stay in the hallway.

"Look, Murph, I'm sorry about the way I reacted when you told me you didn't want to go up to the ski cabin with Mom and Dad."

I lowered my eyes. "Thank you."

"I understand that you felt uncomfortable, given that the work environment has been a little awkward lately, and I should've considered that."

I raised my eyes back to his. "Lip talk to you?"

"He didn't have to."

I cocked an eyebrow at my husband and placed a hand on my hip.

He sighed. "Okay, yeah. He talked to me."

"Son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him," I muttered.

"No, you're not," Nicholas said, holding me back from going down the kitchen stairs to confront him about interfering in my marriage. "Murph, come on. You know that Lip didn't mean anything by it. You're his sister, and he's your brother, and he only wanted to help me understand what you're feeling."

I sighed, leaning back in his arms. "You're right. I know you're right."

Nicholas gently turned me around then. "And, in a few short hours, you and I will have been married for a year."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, there's that..."

"And there's also your present."

I smiled, pulling my neck backwards then and shaking my head. "You gave me plenty of gifts this morning, Nicholas."

"Yes, but this isn't a Christmas gift—it's an anniversary gift."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

He nodded. "Really," he replied. "I got us a suite at The Four Seasons, and you and I are going to use the three days and two nights away to get to know each other again."

I gasped, trying to respond. "The kids—"

"I spoke to Ian, and he's going to take care of them," Nicholas said diplomatically. "He knows that we need this, Murph, and so do I."

"This being...time away from our kids?"

He laughed. "Well, there's that, and we can also think of this as a honeymoon, Murph. You were pregnant with the boys when we got married, and we've never taken a vacation together in all our time of being together. Not once."

I blinked, surprised. "Yeah, I guess you're right..."

"So, what are we waiting for, Murph?"

I smiled. "Not much of anything, I guess..."

"So, will you go with me?"

I laughed then, standing on my toes to kiss him. "Of course I'll go," I replied. I loved the feeling of his arm around my shoulders as we headed back downstairs, and I slipped into the kitchen then, kissing Nicholas on the cheek as he began helping bring dishes to the table. I saw Ian checking on the prime rib and waited until he was finished and, once he was, walked up behind him and hugged him.

"Hi, there," Ian said, a laugh escaping him then as he turned around to hug me properly. "What's all this about?"

I laughed. "Can't a girl hug her twin?"

Ian smirked then and pulled back from me then, holding me at arms'-length. "Well, yeah, of course she can. But what brought this on?"

I smiled. "Nicholas told me about his plans for our anniversary."

Ian grinned. "Good."

"And that you've volunteered to take care of the kids."

He nodded. "That okay?"

I sighed then in a moment of humor and stood on my toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Of course it's okay, Ian. You're my fucking twin."

Ian pulled me back into his arms then, lowering his voice so that only I could hear him. "I want you and Nicholas to make it work, Murph, and maybe this vacation can help you talk the things out that need to be talked out."

"We definitely need to talk things out," I muttered.

Ian's laughter rippled from his chest then as he continued to hold me. "I know you can make it work with him, Murph, because I know you love him."

"I do," I said quietly.

"I also know that the two of you are prepared to fight for each other, and for the family you've built together, and I couldn't be prouder of you."

"I'm going to fight," I whispered.

"I know you are, Murph. And do you know how I know?"

I pulled back then. "Because I'm your twin?" I asked with a smile.

Ian grinned. "Of course, but it's also because you're a Gallagher, and Gallagher's fight for what they want in life."

I nodded. "We do fight."

Ian nodded. "Merry Christmas, Murph."

I leaned in again and held him for another moment, unknowing what the final days of the year would bring, nor did I know what would happen in the following year. All I did know was that I was a Gallagher, fighting to keep her family together in this time full of uncertainty, for I couldn't help but think that Nicholas was keeping something from me, and it could've been that which drove him to believe that I'd been having an affair with Tommy...

"Merry Christmas, Ian," I replied, forcing the thought from my mind as we turned towards the table, and as Ian carried in the prime rib. I looked across at Nicholas then, my heart hammering in my throat at my suspicions. Even though I didn't know for sure, I knew my husband well enough that something was indeed lurking, just beneath the surface, and I was determined to figure out what it was.


	7. The Brave One

Chapter Seven: The Brave One

Pretending you're in a seventy-two hour state of exhaustion when you're supposedly on a romantic getaway for your one-year anniversary is difficult, yet not impossible, to accomplish. I did more research on my home city than I'd ever done in my entire life, and planned numerous outings for Nicholas and me during our trip away. So, whenever we'd return from a walk around the area, dinner and a show, or from a winter garden-like gallery I'd found, the both of us fell into bed, exhausted. Of course, this also meant that any lengthy form of communication was out when it came right down to it, and I knew that my husband and I were mutually holding at least one thing back from the other, and the notion that our relationship had, again, become unhealthy, due to the mutual dishonesty, began to wear on me.

We returned back to South Side on the second of January, and I was pleased at the welcome home party that Ian had spontaneously thrown. We were short a couple of faces—noticeably Fiona, who still had barely spoken to any of us since her departure to New York; and then there was Carl, who called from wherever he was stationed overseas and wished us a belated Happy New Year, and that he loved and missed every one of us. However, in addition to Ian, Iana, and the boys, Lip, Debbie, Franny, Kev, V, Amy, and Gemma were all in attendance to welcome the two of us back.

Once the excitement of the two of us initially coming home had died down, I managed to step into the kitchen to take a breather. I opened the fridge and shuddered at the sight of the beer bottles before slamming it shut. "You don't need it, Gallagher—get it out of your head. You know you have to..."

"You okay?"

I turned around then, spotting Lip, and felt my shoulders immediately deflating. In the last several weeks, I'd become nearly as close to Lip as I'd been with Ian since the beginning, and, with our mutual alcoholism, it was pleasant that I had someone so close to me to talk it out with whenever I needed to. "I think I need a meeting..."

Lip gave a nod. "Okay," he said, putting an arm around my shoulders for a moment, holding me against him in a moment of comfort. "I'll get our coats, you go out the back door and text Nicholas what's going on. I'll meet you out front in a minute."

I sighed, fingering my phone in my pocket. "Okay..."

Lip smiled in understanding. "Need a cigarette first?"

Immediately, I pulled my lighter out of my pocket. "Please," I replied.

My brother smiled and got his pack from his pocket, handing one over to me as I lit it up. "Save some for me," he called over his shoulder.

I chuckled then, flipping him off before he turned around completely, and inhaling it quickly as I moved towards the back door, opening it quickly and shutting it behind me. I went down the stairs nearly two at a time, and walked along the side of the house, puffing away, and leaned up against the side of the house for a moment. I took my phone from my pocket, pulling up my correspondence with Nicholas, and typed out a quick message.

 _Sorry_ — _rushing out for a meeting with Lip_! _Be back in an hour_!

I sent off the message, pulling the cigarette out from between my lips and allowing the plume of smoke to waft out from between my fingers. I stared up at the sky then, layered with heavy clouds, and rolled my shoulders. I hadn't heard the front door open yet, so I knew that Lip was likely delayed by something, but I didn't mind. Having a moment to myself after several days away with my husband was a comforting—if not daunting—experience, and I allowed the moment to wash over me.

"You look like a lost soul."

The voice which flew into my ears then caused my skin to prickle, and I straightened up almost immediately then, narrowing my eyes. "What the fuck do you want, Frank?"

"But, then again," he said, traipsing forward, continuing to speak as if I'd not spoken, "you are my child, so I suppose that is an accurate description."

I scoffed then, finding that the lack of alcohol pumping through my veins seemed to curb my desire to lash out completely at him, so I returned the cigarette into my mouth. "Not by choice, Frank, remember that."

Frank looked me over then, skeptical. "You're not drunk."

I scoffed then. "Far from it," I replied, finding that I was actually proud of myself. "I'm actually thirty-eight-days sober, thank you very much."

"Oh, I see," Frank replied, his tone mocking. "You've given yourself over to the Lord Himself, have you?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's 'higher power', Frank. And it doesn't have to be a god—in fact, it can be anything."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure..."

I flipped him off then without hesitation. "It's far too advanced for someone as selfish as you, Frank, to truly understand," I said, lowering my eyes then as my phone buzzed from my pocket, and, as I lifted it out, found myself feeling faint at the name. "Fuck..."

"What?" Frank asked.

"Shut up," I replied without hesitation, and swiped the green phone icon then, pressing the phone to my ear. "Fi?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"That's Fiona?!" Frank demanded then, stepping forward, and I immediately pushed him a good foot away from me. "Tell her I say 'hi'!"

"Sorry, Fi—that's just Frank..."

"I'd recognize our dad's voice anywhere," Fiona replied, her tone sarcastic over the phone. "But I didn't call to talk about Frank..."

I sighed, slouching against the side of the house then, feeling worried. "You still want an answer about the diner? Because I'm working on one, Fi, really I am..."

"No, no—take your time," Fiona said quickly, too quickly, and I was immediately suspicious about her patient behavior.

I straightened up then. "Fi...you're not...? You're not calling to tell me that you're going to have Jimmy's baby, are you?!" I demanded, trying to keep the rage at bay.

"Ugh, no!" she cried out then, almost as if the notion was disgusting to her. "No, I'm not pregnant, Murph. Don't worry."

I sighed. "Okay, then... So, why are you calling?"

"Well, Lip texted a few days back and told me you were one month sober... And I remembered your anniversary, so..."

I bit my lip. "Yeah, thanks. A little late there, but thanks..."

"I know it's late to congratulate you, Murph, but I've got a good reason. Promise."

"Okay, Fi, okay," I said, trying to keep my tone upbeat—she sounded happy, and I hoped against hope that it meant she was going to be on the next flight home, no matter how selfish that sounded, because I knew we all needed her... "What's up?"

"Jimmy and I got married yesterday," she replied.

I fell back against the side of the house again, clipping my shoulder blades pretty hard, my cigarette dropping from between my fingers, its singed edges burning the tips of my fingers ever so slightly. "Ow, fucking Christ!" I screamed.

"Murph?!" Fiona cried out. "You okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine..." I whispered, lowering the phone from my ear then, ignoring the sounds of my older sister's voice escaping from the receiver, as I numbly hung it up.

"What's with you?" Frank asked.

I locked my eyes with his. "She fucking married him..."

He raised his eyebrows. "Fiona?"

I gave a stiff nod then. "Yeah. She fucking married Jimmy."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ! And she didn't invite me?!"

"She didn't fucking invite any of us, you egotistical prick!" I cried out then, striding towards him and punching him in the chest repeatedly. "Why would you even want to go?! Wasn't ruining one of her weddings enough for you?!"

Frank caught my wrists then, not hurting me, as he held off my blows then, and stared down at me then. "You're angry at Fiona, Murphy. Admit it."

"You better believe I'm angry," I replied, yanking my arms away from his grip then as I stared up at him. "But not just at Fiona."

"Are we really going to have this conversation again, Murphy?"

I scoffed then, ignoring the hot tears which escaped my eyes then as I remained where I was. "I guess we are, Frank...I guess we are."

"Okay," Frank replied, spreading his hands. "Let me have it. What do you want to say to me this time, Murph?"

" _Don_ ' _t_ fucking call me that!" I yelled then, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Don't you ever fucking call me that, Frank!"

Frank threw up his hands. "Sorry. You're still my daughter."

I felt myself shaking with rage then but, in that moment, the rage fell away somewhat and became overpowered by a moment of sadness and a need for comfort. Not fully aware of what I was doing, I threw myself at Frank then, and I felt a choking sob escape my throat then as his arms came around me then—albeit awkwardly—and we just stood there, at the side of the house, he holding me, me holding him. I couldn't believe that after five years of him being in my life that I was finally getting a hug from my father...

"Jesus, kid, you okay?" he asked.

"No, Dad, I'm not okay, and a part of me hasn't been okay for a long time," I said, realizing that the name had just fallen from my lips then, without me wanting it to, but, in that moment, Frank fucking Gallagher was being a dad—or, at least, he was going through the motions. I pulled back then, dragging my hand through my hair and sighing. "Sorry about that. You know me—I'm not really a hugger..."

Frank smiled tightly then. "No, of course." He hesitated for a moment then, gazing after me as I walked towards the front of the house. "I also take it that you calling me 'Dad' was just a one-time thing?"

"Yep," I replied, pushing the door open. I pushed my way into the house then, shutting the outer door behind me and going through the inner door of the living room. I spotted Nicholas sitting with our children, and locked eyes with Ian then. "You know?" I ask. "I mean... She call you from over there?"

Ian gave a stiff nod. "We know."

I sighed. "Great," I said, walking over to him and embracing him then, feeling much more comfortable in his arms than Frank's. "I plead temporary insanity for what happened outside just now with Frank..."

Ian sighed. "You call him 'Dad'?" he guessed.

I pulled back then, clasping my right arm into the grip of my left hand, gripping my elbow tightly as I fought to rationalize what had just happened outside with Frank. "Admittedly, yeah... In the emotional moment, before I could communicate to my brain that he was unworthy of that title, of course..."

Ian smiled in understanding. "Of course."

I turned and looked at Lip then, leaning up against the opposite wall, arms crossed. "You doing okay?" I asked him.

He sighed. "Think I might need a meeting now..."

I reached into my pocket then, digging out my keys and jingling them. "I'm with you. You want shotgun?" I asked.

. . .

The rest of the week was a mellow affair, which was a relief, due to the chaos that Nicholas and I had inexplicably returned to after a few days away. On Friday night, I pulled a late shift at the diner and called Lip afterwards; due to the difficulty of the week, if there was one thing I needed right then, it was a meeting. I remained in the office to take the call, giving a cursory glance over the books, tapping my pencil impatiently with my free hand as I waited for Lip to pick up. When he finally did, I felt an extreme amount of relief, and immediately knew that putting on the charm was not necessary, as he was my brother, and he had seen me at my best and at my worst, which was a huge relief.

"How was Friday for you, Murph?"

"Pretty much the same," I replied. "Lots of customers thinking that they automatically know best when it comes right down to it… How about you?"

"The shop keeps my mind busy and my hands dirty," he replies steadily. "My back hurts at the end of the day, but I need a distraction, so, you know…"

I laughed into the phone at his analogy, knowing that I needed him now more than ever. "I was thinking about hitting up a meeting before heading home for the night… Was going to lock up in about five or ten minutes…"

"Brad told me to lock up tonight, and I was going to head over myself," Lip replied. "I could meet you out in front in twenty minutes, okay?"

I sighed, relief filling every bone in my body. "Great," I replied, looking down at the books again with an expectant expression. "I'll finish up here and meet you. Sound good?"

"Meet you there, Murph," Lip replied, cutting the call.

I knew I had to finish the profit for the week, given that I was taking a half-day off the following day, and the full day off on Sunday. I wouldn't want to spend my entire Saturday cooped up in the office, going over every cup of coffee with two sugars that would-be writers drank to keep themselves awake as they typed away on their laptops. Rolling my eyes at the lectures I gave the waitresses, to convince them to at least buy a pastry or something, I managed to get through the final order of the night, the meatloaf special, and slammed the book shut. I opened the safe on the other side of the room, placing the book inside above the money bucket of profits we'd made that day, and knew that I'd have to cash all of it the following day after the lunch rush, when I would go grocery shopping, and return home for the evening, and divy up the profits for paychecks on Monday.

I grabbed my winter coat, hanging on the peg behind the door, and reached into its pockets for my gloves, hat, and earmuffs. Next, I grabbed my large bag and stuffed my sneakers into it before I picked up my snow boots and stepped into them, making a grab for my set of keys as I turned off the lights of my office. I trooped out into the front of the restaurant, looking it over before shutting off the lights and going towards the front door, which I locked, and stepped outside, towards my car. I got inside quickly, locking the doors behind me, before sticking my keys into my ignition to turn on the heat, for every foreseeable surface around me was covered in snow, and I was cold from my nose to my toes. Reaching into my jeans pocket and removing my cell phone, I sent off a quick text to Nicholas, telling him I'd be home in an hour after hitting up a meeting with Lip.

I rolled my shoulders, putting my phone back into my pocket and revving my engine, making sure it was warm enough before I pulled out of my space and into the line of traffic, setting my course for the church where the meetings were held. I did my best to keep a good grip on my steering wheel, despite the thickness of my gloves, and managed not to get myself into a ditch as I made for the church. Pulling up into the adjacent lot, I checked my phone to see that I had about fifteen minutes before the meetings' start time as I got out of my car. Locking up, I made my way around the side of the building and to the front, spotting Lip with his customary cigarette standing outside.

"Hey," I said, stepping forward.

"Hey," he replied, holding the cigarette towards me.

"Thanks," I replied, taking it and sucking it quickly, holding it in my gloved hand for a moment before taking one more hit before I handed it back to him. "How's your day?"

"Quiet," he said. "Lots of fixing shit up."

I laughed aloud then. "Yeah, well, there's a lot of that going around…"

"How do you mean?"

I dragged one of my gloved hands down my face, mulling over the words I needed to say in my mind before I spoke. "Even though Fi married Jimmy like that…" I shrugged. "She's seizing life by the horns, Lip, and we've gotta commend her for that…"

"Yeah," he replied, taking a drag on his cigarette before handing it over to me, "guess so…"

"We do," I said softly, taking it into my hand again and sucking the air into my lungs, which proceeded to calm me. "Which is why I'm going to reach out to her tomorrow after I have a discussion with Nicholas…"

Lip gave a cursory nod. "Come to a decision about the ownership of the diner?"

"I have," I reply, grinning at him as I handed the cigarette back. "I'm going to tell Nicholas tonight that my intention to resign from the firm will go into full affect once I discuss it with Allie and Hugo, and then I'm going to call Fi and ask to own Patsy's."

Lip smiled. "I thought being a lawyer was your dream."

I laughed. "I guess I made a new dream for myself," I replied. "I was backed into a corner with that job, Lip. Dr. Normal gave me a fucking list of 'acceptable' careers to choose from, and I only chose a criminal lawyer because it sounded the most interesting. But I did take quite a few business classes on the side when I had time, and I could've applied for a degree in management if I wanted to, but Dr. Normal wouldn't have approved of it…" I shrugged then, taking the cigarette back from him then, smiling to myself. "I don't know. I guess I feel like being a professional isn't me. Maybe it's the Gallagher in me, Lip, but I want to rebel against the system and life laid out for me, and do something for me for a change…"

"You think Nicholas will approve?"

I scoffed then, handing him back the cigarette. "I promise, you and Ian will be the first to know what his reaction is."

An hour later, on schedule, after telling a whole room of mostly strangers that I was an alcoholic and wanted to change my career path, I hugged Lip goodbye and drove back home. Most businesses along the main streets had taken down their Christmas decorations, but a few of them held out, with a few strands of butterfly lights dotting various rooftops. I smiled to myself as I drove, feeling confidence inside me once again, a feeling I didn't often have anymore, since I'd slipped into the wife and mother routine.

I pulled up outside the house then, seeing Nicholas through the window, on his laptop, and I knew that, based on his relaxed demeanor, that he must've put the kids to bed already. I smiled to myself, getting out of my car and locking it up behind me, shivering slightly, despite my heavy coat, as I trooped through the yard, up the stairs, and into the house. I took off my coat and boots immediately after shutting and locking the door, pulling off my hat, gloves, and earmuffs and putting them into my coat pockets as I opened the inner door and stepped into the living room, smiling at my husband, who looked up at me.

"Kids already asleep?" I asked.

He smiled back as I crossed over to sit beside him. "Yeah. The boys about an hour ago, and I put Iana down about twenty minutes ago."

I nodded, pulling my knees up onto the couch after me and smiling at him. "Sorry about me just slipping off to a meeting. I know it's hard, but the first year or so of sobriety is the hardest, and Lip says that going to all the meetings you can is really beneficial."

My husband nodded. "I know. I understand, Murph. I mean, not on a recovering alcoholic level of understanding; in a, 'I'm your husband and I love you' understanding way…"

I scoffed then, rolling my eyes. "I love you, too, Nicholas. And thank you. It means so much that you've stepped up so much with the kids lately. But, I have a half-day off tomorrow, and all of Sunday off, so we've got time to be a family."

Nicholas grinned. "That's good to hear. We have family dinner with Ian and everybody on Sunday, but maybe we can put the kids to bed early tomorrow night and have dinner and a movie here tomorrow night…"

I laughed. "Well, I do have to go shopping tomorrow after work and after I head to the bank. I could pick up a couple of steaks or something…"

"Steaks sound good," Nicholas put in.

I grinned back at him. "With baked potatoes?"

"We can have baked potatoes," he replied. "And I can whip those up while you work on the employee paychecks. You said they get paid Monday?"

I nodded. "That's right… You remembered."

"Of course I remembered, Murph," he said, setting aside his laptop then as he suddenly yanked me forward, and I let out a sound resembling a yelp then as he pulled me on top of him, and kissed me. "You're my wife. I tend to remember things important to you."

I bit my lip then, knowing how important my future career choice was, and also knowing that I needed to tell him, and quickly. "Listen, we need to talk…"

"Sure," Nicholas replied, lifting me up by my waist so that I straddled him then, and I felt my cheeks automatically heating at our closeness. "Talk."

I breathed in deeply then, goosebumps covering every inch of me then, as I felt my husband's eyes and hands roving all over me. "S-sure," I said, hating that he managed to always catch me off-guard like this. Only he had had that effect on me, and I'd always wondered if anyone would, and now that I had it… "I was going to call Fiona tomorrow," I said, trying my best to keep my tone steady. "...about my decision on the diner."

My husband nodded. "You've come to a decision?"

I locked my eyes with his then, my lashes momentarily sweeping my cheeks as they fanned upwards to look at him. "Yeah," I said, doing my best to sound casual, but it was fucking difficult, due to the throbbing in my groin.

Nicholas smirked slightly then, his fingers trailing a pattern down my back; I could feel every movement of them, despite the fact that my back was covered by three layers, including my bra, camisole, and a sweater. He continued in this manner as I attempted to gather my thoughts, but I was constantly distracted by those godforsaken fingers; I felt my bottom lip automatically creeping into my mouth then, sucking on it, biting it, as he finally lowered his fingers completely then, and cupped my ass, which caused me to lose my grip on my lower lip, a shuddering sound escaping from between them.

"Tell me," Nicholas said, taking in turns squeezing and rubbing my ass.

"You can't…" I whispered then, watching as he removed one of his hands from my ass, and brought them to the buttons on my jeans, and my cheeks heated furiously then. "Nicholas, I am literally begging you to…"

My husband raised his eyebrows. "What?" he asked then, unhooking the button quickly from its hole, and dragging his hand further downward, and pulled at my zipper then, and I found that I was practically shaking. "What's wrong?"

"You know very well what's…" But I am suddenly cut off then when he snakes his hand around the barrier of my jeans and into my panties, and I do my best not to squirm whilst sitting on top of him. "Nicholas…" I whined then, knowing that my husband was not a patient man, and that, nine times out of ten, he usually got what he wanted…

"Ready for me, are we?" he teased, slipping his hand further, deeper, so much so that quite soon he would be…

I grabbed ahold of his wrist then, stopping him. "Nicholas, this is serious. Please…"

He grinned up at me, using his free hand to drag my neck downward then, and kissed me deeply on the lips. He chuckled into my mouth then as I showed no resistance, and I felt myself weakening to the notion of where his other hand was. When he pulled back then, smirking up at me, slowly dragging his hand from my panties, he looked innocent then, just for a moment. "So, what did you want to tell me, Murph?"

Without hesitation, I yanked his wrist back then, knowing full well that my voice would shake when I spoke, but no longer caring. "Oh, no," I said, cursing myself at the way my voice was affected by him. "You do not just take me towards the brink and then turn all serious again. Now you need to fuck me like the man you are, and take me over that brink, because I won't be able to see straight until you do!"

Nicholas grinned up at me then, and I could sense his loins stirring beneath me then. He raised himself up toward me again, putting his lips to mine for a moment, and gently biting down on the bottom one, and a moan escaped from my lips then, sending a shudder down my body. "Say it again, Murphy," he whispered.

"Say what?" I whispered back.

"Say it. Tell me."

"Tell you what?" I moaned, wanting him so badly now.

"Tell me what you want," he said, pulling back as I leaned towards him again.

"God," I whispered, the sensations his hot breath on my neck brought me as I felt my eyes rolling back into my head. "I want you to fuck me," I whispered, barely managing to allow the words to escape my lips. "I want you to fuck me, and hard. I need this," I moaned, knowing that we had so many unspoken things between us, but resolution could come later. "Please, Nicholas, I need this… I need you…"

My husband chuckled then as I lowered my eyes to him then, and he nodded. "All right," he replied then, and dragged my jeans off me then, pulling at my sweater and camisole next, so that I lay in my underwear beneath him. As my husband undressed himself, I unhooked my bra on my own, sticking my thumb and index finger into the edges of my panties to tear them off, and, quite soon, I felt the weight of him on top of me then, and I dug my fingers and heels into his perfect ass, urging him, harder and faster, into me.

"Fuck," I whispered, my body finally relaxing when we both lay, spent, on the living room couch, his arms around me. "You're fucking amazing. You know that?"

Nicholas leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead. "That's what I hear," he joked, his fingers stroking my bare skin. "Now," he said, rolling over slightly so that he could see my face and judge my reactions, "you're amazing, but we've already established that, as I put a ring on it…"

I rolled my eyes. "True."

"But, I want to know what was so pressing," he replied, "other than your apparent pent-up desire for your husband…"

I sighed, knowing that it was now or never. "I want to resign from the firm," I said quietly, knowing that I had to be direct. "I want to resign and be completely done with it, and I'm going to call Fiona tomorrow to tell her that I want to take over the diner completely, not just as manager, but as its owner."

Nicholas mulled that over for a moment. "And you're sure?"

I nodded. "I'm sure."

He sighed. "Well, I'll miss you like crazy at work, Murph, and I'll sure as shit miss fucking you in our offices, but…" He smiled. "...I've seen how much happier you are working at Patsy's, and I don't want you to make any sacrifices for me, Murph. No matter what happens."

I propped myself up upon my elbow then, seeing something in his eyes for a moment, but couldn't put a finger on whether it was regret, or guilt, or something else entirely… "No matter what happens?" I asked him. "What are you talking about?"

Immediately, he shook his head. "Nothing."

I sighed. "All right," I replied, not wanting to fight with him, as we gradually left the couch and got to our feet. "How about a shower before bed?"

Nicholas grinned. "Sounds great," he replied as he gathered our clothes for us, before he smacked my ass on the way up the stairs.

. . .

I headed into the diner the following morning at nine, and went straight to the office after I greeted everyone. My plan was to call Fiona as soon as possible, before managing to get through the day before I got the money together to take to the bank to pay the employees, go shopping for groceries for my family, and then get home to make up paychecks. Shutting the door behind me, I pulled out my phone as I changed into my sneakers from my snow boots, and got off my coat before hanging it on the peg on the inside of my door.

I pressed the three button on my phone, listening to the rings before Fiona picked up, her tone hesitant, due to our last conversation. "Hey, Fi," I said softly.

"Hi, Murph," she replied. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Listen, I wanted to apologize for cutting off the phone call prematurely a few days back. I may not agree with every life decision you make, but it gives me no right to be such a bitch about it. I'm sorry."

"I did kind of spring it on you," she said quietly. "I mean, I was at your wedding, and I'm sure you would've wanted to be at mine…"

"The key word there is 'my' and 'mine', Fi. It was your wedding, and if you just wanted it to be you and Jimmy, then I understand. Besides, all of us have lives over here in South Side, so to just drop everything…" I spread my hands. "Easier said than done."

"I'm glad you see it that way, Murph. Thanks for being so understanding."

"It's the fucking AA," I joked, and Fiona laughed on the other end of the phone. "I think it's making me into a goddamned human being."

"Had to happen sometime," Fiona put in.

"Listen, I also wanted to call to tell you that I've made a decision," I said quietly. "You know, about the diner."

"Yeah?" Fiona said, immediately paying attention.

"I'll assume ownership," I replied, and smiled at Fiona's gasp on the other end of the phone. "I am going to schedule a meeting first thing Monday morning with Allie and Hugo to tell them about my immediate resignation, so I'll assume operations formally then, if that's agreeable to you, of course."

"Of course it's agreeable to me!" Fiona cried, shock, joy, and relief filling her tone. "I just… I'm so surprised…"

"I was never meant for a pantsuit type of lifestyle, Fi. I'm South Side through and through, and I'm sick and tired of being something I'm not. It took me a long time to figure out who I was, and who I am, and who I'll continue to be. And I'm ready to take that plunge, and I can't thank you enough for it."

"Really? Why me?"

I laughed. "Oh, let's just say that my honesty about it got me the best sex I've ever had with my husband," I replied.

Fiona laughed aloud. "That's really good to hear, Murph. Well, I know that Saturdays at Patsy's can be busy, so I won't keep you."

"Thanks, Fi. I have another phone call to make, and before I leave today, I'll make the announcement that I'm taking over."

"Sounds great," she replied. "And Murph?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

I laughed. "Of course I know, Fi. I love you, too," I replied, hanging up. Sighing, I looked at my contacts for a moment, knowing that Allie was probably a safer bet as I keyed in her number and listened to the rings. "Hey, Allie."

"Hey, Murphy. You at the diner on a weekend?"

I chuckled lightly, knowing that Nicholas must've mentioned it. "I am. And how's yours and Hugo's weekend going?"

"We're fine, thank you, dear. We're going to Skype with Lucas and Benny later. Apparently, they have some big news for us."

 _Maybe Lucas got over his aversion to marriage_ , I think to myself. _Maybe that_ ' _s just the thing this side of the family needs to get over the bombshell I_ ' _m about to drop on them in just under forty_ - _eight hours_... "That's really good to hear, Allie. Listen, I was wondering if I could have a word with you and Hugo at the firm on Monday morning, if that's agreeable to you…"

"Of course, Murphy. We'll arrange it for nine, if that's all right?"

"Nine is perfect," I affirmed, which would give me just enough time to clear out my office beforehand and get to the diner soon after opening. "It shouldn't be a long conversation. Just want to touch base about a few things…"

"Sounds reasonable, Murphy, very reasonable. Well, then, we'll see you on Monday morning at nine o'clock."

"Thanks, Allie. See you then," I said, hanging up. I lowered my phone onto my desk then, before I got to my feet and made my way out and into the restaurant. There were only a couple of customers there, and all of them were eating as I made my way back behind the counter. "Good morning, everyone," I said, and all my employees turned to look at me. "I just got off the phone with Fiona, and a decision of the successor for owner has been made." I hesitated for a moment then, making sure that they were fully paying attention. "I take great pleasure in informing you all that I have accepted the position."

"You?" Sierra cried.

I nodded. "Me," I said, knowing that it could get complicated, given what I knew about Sierra and Lip's relationship. "But I'm really excited about this new venture," I continued, and got a smile of approval from Melinda, so I knew I was in good hands, despite the shaky ground that I always seemed to be walking on with Sierra. "Well, that's all I wanted to say," I went on, and smiled at them all in turn. "I know that we'll get through this adventure that the experts call life together, and I'm really psyched for it!"

I turned around then and headed back to my office, feeling Sierra's dark eyes boring into my back with every step I took. Knowing what I did about Sierra and Lip, as well as the notion that she knew that we were a thing way back when, would always be a difficult pill to swallow. But seeing the pain behind her expression whenever he and I were together, even now, was nearly too much to bear, and I wondered when, or if, it would ever be resolved.


	8. The Heart Wants What It Wants

Chapter Eight: The Heart Wants What It Wants

Once I told Allie and Hugo about my resignation from the firm, the chaos of having to constantly run from one job to another was officially off my shoulders. As January continued, I was pleased to have a sense of normalcy in my day to day life, and although I had to accept that I wasn't making as much when I worked at the firm, it was totally worth it. I found it easier to deal with annoying customers than the opposing side of a case, because, with annoying customers, I could easily tell them to leave Patsy's and never come back.

It was amazing to me that, on the final Wednesday of the month, that Fionn and Clayton would turn one year old. I remembered going into labor with them, holding tightly to Ian's hand, and delivering them on the kitchen table. As I sat in my office at the diner, just a week before their birthday, I smiled to myself, remembering how worried I'd been that Nicholas could possibly miss the birth of his sons. Thankfully, my husband had come through, and had arrived just before the two of them had entered the world.

I lowered my eyes then as my phone rang, and smiled as I caught a glance of Ian's number on the incoming call screen. Immediately, I accepted the call, positioning the phone onto my ear and feeling my lips automatically moving into a smile. "Hey," I said, the positivity radiating through to him. "I was just thinking about you."

"Really? Your twin isn't constantly on your mind?" he joked.

"Ha, ha, ha," I said sarcastically, leaning back in my chair for a moment before getting to my feet to stretch my legs. "State your business. I'm very busy and important," I said, recalling saying something similar, back when I worked at the firm.

"You own a popular diner, so I'd say that statement is accurate," Ian said. "Now, my purpose for calling is Fionn and Clayton's birthday next week."

"Oh, how lovely," I replied, standing on my toes and looking out the window; we'd had some trouble with thugs coming by and lifting the spoiled food from the dumpsters, and I was fully prepared to haul ass out there with a baseball bat and tell them that I meant business. "What is there to discuss?" I asked.

"Stop thinking about the thugs for a minute, please," Ian said patiently, and I immediately lowered my heels back down onto the ground of my office. "That's better."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, you're lucky you're my brother, and that I'm on some really good medication, because if I wasn't, I'd fucking hunt you down and blame my paranoia for going fucking ape shit on your ass, Ian Gallagher…"

"You can't deny that you love me," Ian replied in a sing-song voice.

"I can't deny that you're stalkerish behavior is going to make me call Lip to ask him if we can go to a meeting," I muttered.

"When's the last time you went?"

"I went three times last week; last time was on Friday after work," I admitted, my voice quiet as I rolled my shoulders as I leaned up against the wall. "This work is pretty stressful. Don't get me wrong, because I fucking love it, but I've never had to run a restaurant before…"

"Sierra still giving you a hard time?"

I scoffed. "She just doesn't fully understand what went on between me and Lip," I said quietly. "I mean, one minute Lip tells her to give her ex a chance, and that he wasn't ready for a relationship because of AA, and then I move to town and pretty much swoop in and Lip and I get all hot and heavy immediately after we meet…"

"She understands that it wasn't right, doesn't she?" he asks. "I mean, please tell me you gave her the Genetic Sexual Attraction lecture…"

I sighed. "I'm not a Wikipedia database for information, Ian. Besides, she hasn't asked me about it directly. I mean, she takes the orders I give her when they're due, but with this passive aggressive attitude. I just wish we could come to an understanding, because we're both mothers here, and I certainly have no designs on Lip. I am kinda married…"

"Tommy didn't seem to readily understand that."

I bit my lip, not wanting to have this conversation again. "Just don't, Ian."

"Have you seen him recently?"

I sighed. "Are you going to report back to Nicholas if I say 'yes'?"

"Murph, the man gave you a fucking bloody nose last summer, _and_ he told you, in front of your husband and our sister on Halloween, that he had feelings for you. He's unstable, to say the least, Murph, but I know it's your life…"

"You're right, it is my life," I said firmly. "And I'm in treatment now for my alcoholism, and I'm beginning to see reason…"

"Good," Ian replied, although I could sense from his tone that he wasn't altogether convinced. "I have to go on a run soon, but Lip and Liam and I wanted to know if we could help out with the birthday preparations…"

I nodded, suddenly remembering that he couldn't see me. "Of course you can help. The more the merrier," I said with a smile. "I'll come by on Friday night with the kids and Nicholas. We can have dinner or something, because it's been a while. I don't want you to hate me for spending all this time with Lip. I mean, I don't want you to think that he's replaced you as my favorite sibling or anything…"

Ian laughed. "Of course I don't think that," he said gently. "See you Friday."

"Friday," I replied, hanging up my phone. Slipping it into my pocket, I opened my office door and headed back out into the restaurant, making my way towards a booth by the window. "I'm sorry about that," I said, smiling at the person across from me as I sat. "I had to go over the books, and then Ian called me."

"Is everything okay?"

I smiled. "Of course it is. The twins turn one next week, and he wanted to touch base on him, Lip, and Liam helping out with the party preparations…"

Tommy nodded methodically then, lowering his fork, which he had been using to eat his steak. "I guess I should ask after the family…"

"You don't need to do that."

He smirked. "Because they'd roast you alive for associating with me?"

I shook my head. "It's not just that. I mean, I thought going to AA would be enough for Nicholas, but I know he would accuse me of cheating on him if he knew that you and I still talked, and were friends…"

"But you haven't," Tommy said firmly, "cheated on him, I mean. You love him. Even I can see that, and, as a man, I can admit that I was out of line on Halloween."

I raised my eyebrows. "We've never discussed…"

"I know, and I appreciate you not bringing me up, because I'm fucking embarrassed at my attitude that night," he said, shaking his head. "I should never have allowed it to get that far. I mean, after everything…"

I shook my head. "Tommy, it's not…"

"I nearly broke your nose the day I arrested you, Murphy," Tommy said, his green eyes filling with pain at that. "I went too far. I've had anger issues, you know, in the past, during my teen years, but I pushed myself into sports because of it."

I raised my eyebrows. "Sports?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah. Sports."

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "What sports?"

"Boxing and wrestling. They really helped me channel my anger into something productive, and I was able to get a scholarship because of them."

"So, what happened?" I asked. "You got an athletic scholarship, but now you're a cop."

"I decided to go the practical route," Tommy said. "I did some soul-searching after graduation from college, and even though some pro leagues wanted me, I just knew it wasn't for me." He smiled then as he picked up his fork. "It was the right thing to do," he said, spearing another bite of steak, "but it cost me Brittany."

I raised my eyebrows. "Brittany?"

"Brittany York, my high school girlfriend. We started dating sophomore year," Tommy explained carefully, popping the bite of steak into his mouth. He chewed for a few moments before he swallowed, considering his first love. "She dumped me the year after college graduation, after I told her I wanted to join the academy. Being a cop's wife wasn't good enough for her, apparently, and she left me for Harry Thompson, my best friend."

I shook my head. "I'm so sorry," I said quietly.

Tommy smiled. "It's okay, I'm over it. I surrounded myself with positivity, and that helped me through my time at the academy. Now, I'm a detective, and things couldn't be better."

"You ever miss her?"

He scoffed. "That cheating bitch? No way."

"Well, you must get lonely," I said, my voice soft.

Tommy raised his green eyes to mine. "Sometimes I do," he said, smiling slightly then. "I guess my friends help me get through."

I nodded, allowing myself to absorb his words. "Friends," I said, wondering if I was saying that more for his sake or for mine.

. . .

"My name is Murphy, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Murphy."

I stood at the podium for a moment, running my hands along the wood as I struggled to collect myself quickly. It was my first meeting that I was attending without Lip, and even though Brad was there, I know he wouldn't tell Lip directly about what I was going to say. "My husband thinks that, after my arrest last year, that I'm cheating on him with my arresting officer," I said to the fellow alcoholics. "I mean, everyone is pretty much on the table at this point, because even though I married him, I'm into women as well. My arresting officer, however, was a man, and he gave me a bloody nose when he arrested me. It's been a difficult year, for the two of us, and we just celebrated being married for a year last month. But the difficulty stems from the fact that my arresting officer and I have become friends, close friends. I keep telling my husband that no lines have been crossed, but on Halloween, my arresting officer told me, within earshot of my husband and younger sister, that he has feelings for me." I allowed my shoulders to rise and fall for a moment, knowing I had to come clean completely. "I broke off physical contact for a while, after I began AA, but my arresting officer and I still communicated on the phone. And then, last week, he came into my diner and had lunch, and we talked. He told me more about his past, and although we haven't crossed any lines, I feel like I'm being disloyal to my husband. I know I'm not obligated to report back to him, because he's not my jailer or anything, but being honest is something I've always preached with him. I know that dishonesty is wrong, but I don't think I should allow him to pick and choose my friends… Well," I said, moving away from the podium then, and it was then that I caught a glance of Lip, standing in the doorway, and my blood ran cold immediately then, for I was unaware of how much he had heard, "that's all I wanted to say tonight. Thank you."

As soon as the meeting was over, I put my coat on and headed outside, the cool mid-winter air cutting into my exposed cheeks. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, retrieving my gloves and hat, and pulled them all on respectively. My hat tonight covered my ears, so I had no need for my earmuffs as I dug into my pocket again for my cigarettes. I lit one up and fast, the plume of smoke escaping through my gloved fingers as I hurried to get it between my teeth, inhaling the poison as I heard footsteps behind me. I leaned up against the brick pillar of the church, knowing my brother's footsteps anywhere, and also knowing I was in for a lecture.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck that was in there?!"

I scoffed, assuming the body language, mannerisms, and attitude of a teenager as I handed over my cigarette to him, which he took. "You wanna give me a lecture now?"

"Murph, come the fuck on," Lip said, putting the cigarette into his mouth as I turned to look over at him. "You know how Nicholas and the rest of us feel about Tommy…"

I shrugged. "So what?"

"So what?!" Lip said, shaking his head, evading my hand when I attempted to grab ahold of my cigarette again. "Jesus, Murph. This could really fuck up your marriage on every level possible… Or don't you care anymore?"

"Of course I care!" I shot back, glaring at him. "Christ, Lip. Nicholas is my fucking husband and the father of my children. Why the fuck wouldn't I care?!"

"Then why aren't you acting like you could lose him?" Lip asked, his tone serious as he finally handed back my cigarette.

I shook my head. "Not gonna happen," I replied, taking ahold of the cigarette and breathing in the smoke deeply.

"Murph, Nicholas has thoughts and feelings for Christ's sake," he said quietly. "Don't you think you can compromise for him? In the whole of your relationship, he goes your way. He moved into the house you wanted, he ignored the fact that you dated his enemy before you were even with him officially, and he stood by you after your arrest. He's literally asking you for one thing, Murph, one thing, and that's not to associate with a guy who's stated before witnesses that he has romantic feelings for you. Don't you think you can give him this one thing?"

"It's not about that," I said, my voice soft then as I handed him back my cigarette. "It's about his goddamned trust issues…"

"Of course he can't fucking trust you, Murph. You're a Gallagher and an alcoholic. That's two strikes against you already."

I turned and looked at him, and shoved him a good foot away from me. "Fuck you," I replied. "I am not defined by my name, Lip."

"That's exactly what you're defined by, Murph," Lip said, stepping forward and snagging the cigarette back, unafraid of the tigress he had awoken from within me. "You're a textbook definition of a Gallagher right now. Self-destructive to the point of potentially losing everything and everyone around you that you care about."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I wouldn't lose the kids," I said, knowing that I didn't stand to lose them, not yet, at least. "And Ian would never turn his back on me. He and I have promised that to each other more than once…"

"Murph, you have got to listen to me and actually hear me this time," Lip said firmly, grabbing ahold of my arms to hold me there. "You have got to stop going behind Nicholas's back like this and seeing Tommy. You're supposed to trust your spouse, and both of you have had trust issues in the past. What's he supposed to think if he finds out?"

"How's he supposed to find out?" I demanded, deliberately keeping my voice hard, for I was unwilling for it to break. "You gonna rat me out? You gonna stage another intervention on me, to tell me who I can and can't associate with? What's your game plan here, Lip? Are you going to turn me in to my own husband?!"

Lip shook his head. "Don't do this, Murph."

"Do what?" I said, my voice that of a whip. "I don't know what you mean…"

"You're attempting to manipulate me, and it won't work," he said firmly. "It's the oldest trick that alcoholics have in their repertoire. I assure you that it won't work on me, because I've used it more times than you can count, and I learned at the feet of the master."

I rolled back on my heels then. "Frank?" I asked.

Lip nodded. "Frank. I know how to work the system, Murph, so don't bet on Nicholas not knowing how to work it either. He's your husband, and, therefore, should know everything there is to know about you. Sooner or later, he'll figure out that you're keeping something from him, again, and then there'll be a big blow up where you almost end things, before you ultimately come together again."

I shook my head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Lip shrugged, handing me back the cigarette. "It's happened before…"

I bit my lip then, slowly bringing the cigarette back to my lips. "It's not the same as before, Lip, any of it."

"What are you talking about?" Lip asked, his eyes roving over my face in an attempt to figure out what I was keeping from him.

I sighed, blowing out the cigarette smoke, which made a cloud around my head before disappearing into the cool night air. "It's different this time," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I held onto my cigarette in between my index and middle finger. "Something between us is off, and it's not me this time. I know that…"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "How do you know?"

I bit my lip then, lowering my eyes to the cracked concrete we stood on. "Late night and secret phone calls," I said quietly. "He has a fucking passcode on his phone now," I went on, my voice turning bitter then as a laugh escaped my lips. "Although, I suppose I'm to blame for that one, since I have a passcode, too…"

Lip mulled that over for a moment as I mutely handed the cigarette back to him. "You think he's cheating on you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said, feeling the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. "I don't fucking know, Lip. I know that something is going on, and it feels like Allie and Hugo have closed ranks since I left the firm so quickly. I feel like they think that I've been disloyal to them and to the family, and I'm fucking scared that I don't have an ally over there anymore. All I do know is that Nicholas has been really distant towards me, since I said I wanted to take over the diner and quit the firm, like he thinks I'm a different person. Of course I'm a different person. I quit drinking and a job that I thought I loved because I realized that it wasn't me anymore. I am finally doing something for myself and I feel like my own husband doesn't even want me as a wife anymore…" I sighed then, not wanting to come undone, but not knowing what else to do anymore. "I guess it should tip me off that he keeps throwing himself into family activities and stuff like that, but whenever it's just him and me...he's different…"

"I just can't see Nicholas as a cheater," Lip said quietly, taking my cue to finish the cigarette on my behalf. "I mean, he was so convinced that you were fucking Tommy, and he went fucking ape shit when he found out Tommy had feelings for you…"

"He could just be another goddamned hypocrite," I replied bitterly. "Lots of men out there are exactly that. He could just be wanting to paint me into a corner, when in fact he's the one that belongs there in the first place."

"So, what are you gonna do?" Lip asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said, my voice cracking then as he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. "I don't know what I'm gonna do, Lip. I have three kids to take care of and a diner to run. I don't know if I can even save my marriage if half of the people directly involved in the marriage don't even want it to be a marriage anymore…"

. . .

Fionn and Clayton turned one the following Wednesday, and everyone on my side of the family came over that Saturday to celebrate them. Allie and Hugo came as well, and although our solo interactions were uncomfortable, they were ultimately there for the boys, and it was pleasant to see how much they were loved. Kev and V came by with Amy and Gemma as well, and so Nicholas and I had a full house that afternoon.

I took a moment away from the festivities after a couple of hours, going inside and slipping into the study that Nicholas and I had. Pulling out my phone, I saw that Fiona had called about twenty minutes previously, and I immediately moved to call her back. "Sorry I missed you, Fi," I said as soon as she picked up. "We're having the boys' party today."

"Am I interrupting you, then?" she asked.

I sighed. "No, of course not. I always have time for you," I said, putting a smile onto my face. "I miss you everyday, and it's nice to be able to talk to you."

"Lip called me over the weekend…"

I bit my Lip, suddenly uncomfortable. "Did he?"

"He mentioned Friday's meeting," she went on. "I just wanted to touch base and make sure that everything was okay over there…"

I shrugged. "Can't complain."

"I can," she replied, "because I know when you're lying to me, even over the phone. Tell me what's going on, Murph."

I shook my head. "It's hitting the fan, Fi," I whispered, hoping that my voice wouldn't break all over again.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Nicholas is hiding something from me," I told her. "I don't know what it is, and I'm fucking scared that he might be, I don't know, fucking someone else. That's the worst case scenario that I can readily think of…"

"You really think he'd do that to you?"

I shook my head again. "I don't know," I replied. "Of course I'm immediately thinking of the kids and how I don't want them to be from a broken home, but…"

"But what?"

"But if he's cheating on me, then that's it," I said, slamming my fist firmly down onto the desk I was sitting at, and a file of papers came tumbling down then. "Shit," I whispered, immediately moving to tidy them up.

"I'm with you, wholeheartedly, Murph, but try to gather some evidence first," she replied as I moved to fix the mess I'd made. "Is everything okay?"

I moved the papers into semi-order, shocked at the notion that they had the words PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR stamped on the top of them, and that I was the target. When I saw who had taken out the claim, my blood boiled to see that Hugo's name was emboldened towards the top of the page. "That son of a bitch," I whispered.

"What is it?" Fiona asked.

I shook my head at her. "Gotta call you back," I replied. "Love you, Fi."

"Happy two months of sobriety!" she said quickly.

I smiled. "Thanks, Fi," I replied, hanging up the phone. Immediately, I pulled up my text conversation with Ian, and typed, _I_ ' _m in the study_ , _and I need you_. _Hurry_! Quickly sending off the text, I dragged the paperwork closer to me, my eyes taking in the legal jargon before me, as I shook my head, my heart pounding in my ears at the implications this brought.

"Murph?" Ian opened the door of the study a few moment later, and, at my gesture, shut the door behind him. "What's up?"

"This!" I said, getting to my feet and handing over the paperwork. "Hugo got a private investigator to follow me!" I hissed.

"What the fuck?!" Ian demanded, taking the paperwork then and scanning it. "He took it out on November first…"

"The day after the Halloween ball," I whispered, lowering my head into my hands. "That's the day Tommy said he had feelings for me, and Allie and Hugo were on the other side of the room at the time…"

"So?" Ian asked.

I lifted my head out of my hands. "So, either Nicholas told them about it, or they heard it, or managed to figure it out," I said, my shoulders slacking. "Shit. And Nicholas has the fucking paperwork, so he fucking knew about it the whole time and didn't fucking tell me…"

"Murph…"

I snapped my eyes to his. "What?"

"I'm texting Lip," he said.

Immediately, I grabbed his phone. "Don't," I replied, my voice breaking. I took the paperwork then and shuffled it, returning it to the file folder and placing it onto the shelf it had been on. "I can't handle all of this right now…"

"Which is why you need Lip to make sure that you won't drink…"

"I'm not going to fucking drink!" I shouted then, and I immediately covered my mouth then, a shaking sob muffled from beneath my fingers. "I won't drink," I whispered, lowering my hands and handing back his phone. "I'm not gonna drink, I promise…"

"What are you gonna do, Murph?"

I sighed then, stumbling towards the door then. "How's my face?"

"Murph?"

"Just… Tell me how my face is, Ian. Please."

"You just gotta get rid of the tears, and then I think it'll be fine…"

"Great," I said, wiping my eyes and pinching my cheeks before forcing a smile on my face. "It's going to be fine," I whispered to myself.

"Murph?"

I looked up at my twin then. "What?"

"What are you gonna do?" he repeated.

I let out a bitter laugh then. "What I do best," I replied, opening the door of the study then and making my way back out towards the party. "Bury my wounds," I said, so only Ian could hear, before I went into the kitchen to bring out Fionn and Clayton's cake, and to carry on as if nothing had happened.


	9. Majority Rules

Chapter Nine: Majority Rules

After the boys' birthday, all I could think about was the notion that Hugo had hired a private investigator to follow my every move, and I knew why. It was likely that Nicholas had had a conversation or two with Allie and Hugo about my relationship with Tommy, and had expressed his doubts on my ability to be faithful. I had felt in the beginning as if Allie and Hugo were the parents I'd never had; now, it just felt like they were a pair of strangers who believed that my behavior was unacceptable, and I hated it.

At the diner in the second week of February, the employees were happy with me because I'd paid them the day before. Now it was Tuesday, and I was already going over the books for the previous week to stay on top of things, as well as going over the inventory for any ordering that we would have to make, for the turnover in seasons happened at the end of March, and I would need to check prices accordingly. As I did my best to go over the numbers, my phone's calculator app always handy to make sure I didn't make a mistake, a text message overtook my screen, and I brought my phone closer to me.

 _On a break for lunch_ , Debbie reported. _Mind if I stop by_?

 _Please do_ , I wrote back. _You know_ _I always want to see you_.

I smiled at the notion of seeing my younger sister, and returned to my calculator app to continue with the books while I waited for her arrival. The inventory seemed good for the next couple of weeks, and we were pulling in a satisfactory amount of money, so I knew that Fiona would be proud of me. When Debbie texted a few minutes later, letting me know she was just down the block from the diner, I got to my feet and left the office, locking it up and making my way out into the restaurant, seeing Debbie coming inside.

"I got this, Sierra," I said, doing my best to smile at her as I breezed by, approaching Debbie quickly and pulling her in for a hug. "Hey," I said, holding her close to me for a moment; she was barely an inch shorter than me, due to the fact that I wore sneakers full-time now, but there was an air about her which made her seem younger, and I was altogether very protective of her every day of my life. Pulling back, I straightened her hair a bit, smirking at the notion that she had had it confined to a hard hat for hours. "How are you, Debs?"

Debbie grinned. "Can't complain. But I'm starving."

I nodded. "Great," I said, smiling as I pulled out a pair of menus and bringing her to a booth by the window. "I haven't had my lunch yet… Mind if I join you?"

My sister sighed, nodding. "Of course not. That's why I'm here," she replied, taking a menu and slipping into one side of the booth. "How are you?" she asked as I moved to sit across from her with a sigh of my own. "The place looks great…"

I rolled my eyes. "The hearts, Cupid, and flowers were Sierra's idea," I muttered, finding that I'd nearly sneered her name, and Debbie turned to look behind the counter, where Sierra was refilling a coffee for a customer.

"I take it you're not a fan of the decorations, or the decorator in question," she said, her voice slightly muffled from behind her menu. "Am I right?" she asked, her dark eyes studying my face for a clear answer.

I shrugged, lowering my menu onto the tabletop. "Honestly, I don't know what to think. She's a great worker, and she's polite to everyone...except me."

Debbie blinked. "But, you're her boss."

I nodded, thanking Melinda as she came by with a pair of ice waters for the two of us, and I ordered a cranberry juice and Debbie a coke before she walked away. "I know I'm her boss, Debs, but she…" I shrug. "I don't know."

My sister made a face as her thoughts automatically went to Sierra's and my connection. "She doesn't think you're competition, does she?"

I scoffed. "I don't know what she thinks. She hears me on the phone with Lip all the time, but we're mainly discussing the family or our mutual sobriety. He's come to meet me after work so that we can carpool to a meeting together before, but I think she thinks that our relationship is fucking weird…"

"We're Gallagher's," Debbie said. "We're all weird."

I laughed darkly then. "No shit we're weird." I turned towards Melinda again as she brought over our drinks; Debbie and I thanked her and I brought my red drink closer to me, putting my lips around the straw and sucking it in, the cool liquid going down my throat and settling my nerves for the moment. "I don't fucking know anymore... I mean, she's got a kid and a screwed up ex, so I know I've gotta cut her some slack, but..."

"Gonna confront her?" Debbie asked, lowering her eyes back down towards her menu. "You could do the whole, 'Now, you don't have to like me, but I sign your paycheck' lecture. God knows all bosses how to do that now and again..."

I snorted, pushing my drink away from me and debating on whether to order some pizza or nachos for my lunch. "All I know is, if her behavior doesn't improve, she sure as hell is going to get an honest recommendation from me when she finally quits..."

Debbie looked up at me and raised her eyebrows. "You'd actually give that psycho a recommendation if she asked for one?"

I smirked. "Debs, I'm her boss."

She wrinkled her lips as she considered this. "But you told me she acted shitty to you all the time. I don't understand why you would..."

"Hence the term _honest_ , Debs," I said patiently, deciding to order some pizza. When Melinda came by a moment later, I said, "Cheese pie, please, Mel."

She nodded. "No problem, boss," she replied, turning to Debs. "And for you, hon?"

"Same, but could you throw some spinach on there, please?"

Melinda winked, taking our menus from us. "You got it," she said, sashaying back towards the kitchen behind the counter.

"Well?" Debbie asked, turning back to me. "Sierra?"

I scoffed then, shaking my head. "I guess I would simply tell her future boss that she has a thing against authority figures and has a passive aggressive attitude towards them for personal reasons, which are completely unfounded. I mean..." I shrugged for a moment, biting my lip as I considered it. "She can't honestly think that I stole Lip from her, right? They were over for weeks by the time I got here..."

Debbie shrugged. "No idea. All I know is, if Franny keeps me awake all night, I'm going to pretty much bite someone's head off who annoys me the next day."

I smirked, leaning back in the booth and looking around Patsy's, altogether pleased with myself at the notion that this little spot was mine, and that, while Fiona was no longer around to fully share in it, I silently thanked her for giving it to me. "Can't be all bad," I replied, turning back to face my younger sister.

Debbie gave me a quizzical expression as she sipped her coke. "How do you mean?" she asked, lowering the glass back down onto the table.

I sighed, which morphed into a laugh as I spread my hands. "Well, I've got three kids, and a business to run," I replied. "If I can hold it together, so can you."

Debbie smirked. "You're forgetting one thing, sister."

I blinked. "Yeah?" I asked. "What's that?"

"You weren't raised South Side," she said simply. "I was. You were born here, but you were a transplant from an outwardly decent family. Face it, Murph, your work ethic and entire life would be different if you were raised with the rest of us."

I nodded at that. "You're fucking right," I replied, no malice to my tone as I acknowledged that for what must've been the ten-millionth time since I discovered who I truly was. "It wouldn't have been the same. Who knows? I'd probably have as many kids, but they'd probably have a shit ton of baby daddy's, and I'd just be an addict or something..."

"Your determination wouldn't have gone away, Murph," Debbie put in.

I raised my eyes to hers then, and gave a little shake of my head. "You sure about that?" I asked her quietly then, my voice shaking slightly as I considered it.

"You've got a great husband," Debbie said quickly, and I sighed at that, my shoulders deflating as she brought up Nicholas. "And he's a hell of a dad... You must have some great Valentine's Day plans with him."

I shook my head then, cutting her off as her dark eyes surveyed me then, and my sister instinctively knew that something was wrong. "Not so sure about that..."

Debs looked shocked at how defeated my voice sounded then, and yet she quickly managed to thank Melinda when she came by with our lunch. "Yeah?" she asked, not even bothering to pick up the slices of pizza on her plate. "What happened?"

"It was the twins' birthday," I replied, keeping my voice down—last thing I needed was for my employees and customers to know that I was having another marital issue. "I got a call from Fi and I went into the study I share with Nicholas..."

Debbie nodded. "Yeah?"

I bit my lip then, rolling my shoulders. "Hugo took out a restraining order against me," I said quietly, wanting to rip off the band-aid.

Debbie blinked. "He what?"

I sighed. "Yeah—one day after the Halloween ball," I explained.

"After Tommy said in front of everyone that he had feelings for you," she said, her tone quiet and subdued for once. "Jesus..."

"Fuck yeah," I replied, taking ahold of my straw and swirling it around in the ice of my half-empty cranberry juice.

"What are you thinking, Murph?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what to think, Debs. One minute, I'm over a month sober, and my marriage is off the rocks and out to sea. And the next minute, I'm stumbling into another one of my husband's dirty little secrets..."

"You're not okay, are you, Murph?"

I shook my head, hastily dashing the tears from my eyes as my full body shuddered at the notion of what I was going through. "No, Debs. No, I am not okay. All I can think about is the fact that Nicholas demands honesty from me at every turn, and how he himself doesn't feel the need to disclose his shit to me..."

Debbie reached across the table then and gripped my hand. "What do you need right now, Murph?" she asked me, her tone silent as I locked my eyes to hers. "I mean, do you want to confront him about it, or...?"

I shook my head. "No," I replied, my tone immediate. "No, I still don't know what to say. All I want..." I sighed then, hating the feeling of hot tears escaping my eyes. "All I want is a fucking bottle of beer, Debs. That's all I want..."

"No." Debbie's voice sounded like a whip then as she yanked her hand back from mine. "Eat your lunch," she ordered then, whipping her phone out from her pocket as I slowly brought a slice of pizza to my lips, and vaguely watched her dial a number. "Hey, Lip? It's Debs. Listen, Murph's having some issues and... Yeah. That's right. You can? Awesome. Okay. I'll let her know, then. See you soon. Okay. Bye." As she hung up the phone, I gave her a curious expression, and my younger sister smiled. "All taken care of."

"Debs, what did you do?" I asked.

"Told our brother the truth," she replied. "If you're feeling like you need to drink right now, then you need a meeting."

I sighed, slowly putting to half-finished slice of pizza back down onto my plate. "You know, I'm the older sister here..."

Debs gave a nod. "Yeah. So?"

I smirked, shaking my head. "I don't know. I guess I thought I'd be the one guiding you somehow, even though I arrived a little late to the party..."

Debbie grinned back at me. "Doesn't matter what time you showed up, Murph. Just matters that you came at all."

. . .

I was working in my office at the diner a week later, going over the ordering propositions we'd drawn up with various companies, and tirelessly was looking for the best deals they had. I knew that we had to have the freshest ingredients possible, but then there was the notion of where they were coming from, and how supposedly good the refrigeration units were at their jobs in the trucks they were transported in. I had notes, left over from Fiona and from Sean, on other companies the two of them had used in the past, which really proved to be helpful to me in the long-run. It really was a full-time job, I realized, owning a restaurant, but the hustle and bustle were just what I needed, for now I could set my own schedule, and not be dependent on other people to tell me where to be when.

"Hey, Murphy?"

I turned around then, surprised to see Sierra standing in the doorway. "Hey, Sierra," I said, and immediately got to my feet, not wanting to appear superior by allowing myself to remain sitting in her presence. "What's up?"

Sierra blinked for a moment before composing herself. "Nicholas is here to see you," she replied, her tone hasty.

I nodded. "Thank you. He can come back."

She nodded back to me. "No problem. I'll go tell him."

"Hey, Sierra?" I asked, catching her off-guard before she could leave.

She turned back around to face me. "Yeah?"

I sighed then, stepping forward hesitantly. "Look, I know things haven't exactly been easy-going with the two of us, and I know why," I said softly to her, and she immediately looked uneasy with what I was going to say. "I know things were complicated with you and my brother when I showed up—and, hell, things got complicated between us..."

"You don't have to explain yourself..."

"I think I do," I said, attempting to keep my tone understanding, yet firm, "because you seem to think that not treating me with respect is considered appropriate, and it's not. I'm your boss, Sierra, and while I appreciate how difficult this situation must be for you—and, hell, it's awkward for me, too—you've got to understand that we need to respect each other, because we're a part of a team. I like you; I think you're a great worker, but I really need you to be polite to me. I've given you no cause for offense, Sierra; even when Fiona was in charge here, I was nothing but polite to you."

Sierra sighed. "You're right," she said quietly. "I know you're right, and I'm really sorry. It's just that I thought Lip really cared about me, and then you guys were pretty much joined at the hip immediately..."

I smiled sympathetically at her. "There's a term for what we were, Sierra, and it's darker than it seems, unfortunately," I said quietly.

She blinked. "A term?"

I nodded. "Yes. It's called genetic sexual attraction."

Sierra shook her head. "I've never even heard of that."

I sighed. "Not many people have, and those of us who have, and who are affected by it, don't really want to talk about it. It pretty much means that, because Lip and I weren't raised together, that we became overwhelmed with feelings of desire towards one another, and we just wanted to be together, all the time."

Sierra looked horrified. "I can't imagine."

I laughed a little then. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to wish that on anyone."

"How'd you handle it, when you found out?"

I rolled my shoulders. "Unfortunately, I didn't find out until after Lip and I had...you know," I said, and Sierra looked shocked. "The night after he and I had our moment is when the paperwork came in, confirming our familial relationship."

"And then what happened? You tell him?"

I laughed aloud then. "No. No, I ran off to Mexico and had a one-night-stand with Ian's first love and got pregnant with Iana."

"Did you ever think that Lip could've been Iana's father?"

I nodded. "Of course I thought so. Had to wait eight weeks for a damn DNA test to prove otherwise, but once the results came and said that my daughter was conceived in Mexico..." I spread my hands. "I guess I felt relieved..."

"Jesus," Sierra breathed. "There's just so much you don't know about a person..."

I smiled. "Damn right," I agreed.

"Well," Sierra said, straightening up again, "I should probably go and get your husband and send him back here to you..."

I nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."

"See you later," she said with a smile before leaving the doorway of my office.

I waited for a moment, fixing a smile on my face as I overhead familiar footsteps approaching, and stepped forward when Nicholas came into the doorway of my office. "Oh. Hi!" I said, feeling my eyebrows raising of their own accord when I noticed the bouquet of a dozen red roses in his hand, in a beautiful crystal-cut vase.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he replied, handing them over.

I let out a gasp then and immediately reached for them, positioning them atop a file cabinet and away from my desktop computer. "Well, this is a surprise," I said, noticing the card amongst the leaves and digging it out.

"Read it later," Nicholas said, taking the card from me and placing it on my desk before he kicked my office door behind him.

"Nicholas, what are you...?" I ask then, but am suddenly yanked length-wise against him then as our lips meet. I find that my hunger for him—despite all the lies and betrayal—has not yet been assuaged, and I hate myself for it as I part my lips beneath his, my hands automatically darting upwards towards his collar to unbutton it. "You are a bad, bad man," I whispered against his mouth then, nipping at his lips.

Nicholas chuckled, his breath hot on my neck as he tore his lips from mine, his hands descending towards my jeans and yanking them downward, and I let out a mewl in surprise then as he shoves my keyboard to one side and lifts me up onto my desk. "Don't pretend like you don't love it," he replied, his tone firm, demanding, which, combined with his hot breath everywhere on my skin, caused me to arch up against him, my nipples hardening as they made contact with his chest beneath his button-down shirt.

"Who's pretending?" I replied, reaching downwards then and unbuckling his belt on his suit pants faster than lightning. "Not me," I said, my tone firm as I threw it across the room, ignoring the fear that flowed through me as the buckle clattered to the tiled floor.

Nicholas grabbed me by the waist and yanked me towards him then, and I wrapped my legs around his torso then, looking up at him then, but when I saw that he was avoiding my eyes as I tried to gauge his expression. I sensed the guilt ebbing from him then and, although I was hungry for him second only to his honesty, I pushed him away from me then and hopped off from my desk, which caused him to look shocked. Our eyes locked then, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, for our masks were truly off in that moment of our shared vulnerability.

"Murph?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. We can't Nicholas."

Quickly, he nodded. "No. No, you're probably right," he said, and hastily moved to adjust himself then as I yanked my jeans back up and straightened my clothes. "I booked us a room Downtown tonight, Murph," he said eagerly then, and I raised my eyes to his. "You're probably right. You'd want to save your energy..."

I sighed, gripping the edge of my desk then as I leaned against it. "No."

Nicholas blinked, raising his eyes back to mine. "What?"

"I said, 'No'," I said, my voice deliberately slow for his benefit.

"Well, why the hell not?"

"Because marriage is an equal partnership where the rules should be upheld by both parties," I replied, forcing my voice not to break.

Nicholas gave a stiff nod. "I never insinuated that it wasn't."

I scoffed then, crossing my arms. "Not directly, Nicholas, but your actions have spoken loud and clear on your thoughts."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Murphy."

"Jesus, aren't you going to stop?!" I cried out then, my voice hinging on a breakdown towards the end of my sentence.

"Stop what?!" Nicholas demanded. "Tell me what you mean, Murph!"

"I mean that you fucking require me to be honest with you, but the rules apparently don't apply to you!" I yell back.

Nicholas looked crestfallen then, the guilt returning to his entire demeanor. "What do you know, Murphy?" he asked, his tone quiet.

"What the fuck do you think I know?" I whisper back, feeling the tears springing to my eyes then as I fought with myself to return to some kind of calm. "Jesus... How many things could you possibly be hiding from me that we have to play twenty questions?"

Nicholas shook his head. "I'm not doing this."

"I'm your wife!" I cried out then, hating that the tears allowed themselves to flow freely down my cheeks as my voice broke. "You need to do this."

"Murph, not now..."

"Not now?!" I demanded, crossing my office towards him as he attempted to leave. "Yes, now, Nicholas—now! We can't just go to a fucking hotel and fuck like rabbits all night and continue to sweep this under the rug!"

Nicholas's shoulders deflated under the light touch of my hand then, as he kept his back to me, as he likely couldn't face me. "Just leave it alone, Murph."

"Goddammit, Nicholas," I whispered. "I can't just leave it alone. We're married. You're my husband, and I'm your wife. Husbands and wives talk to each other; they don't constantly blame one for their marital problems."

"I'm not blaming you..."

"Yeah, not today," I replied, scoffing at the notion of all the times he'd blamed me about cheating with Tommy. "But what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Nicholas said, stepping away from me so that my hand fell from his shoulder as he opened the door to my office. "Tomorrow, hopefully, you'll have put this entire conversation to bed. I don't want to be accused, Murph."

"Neither do I," I replied, and something in my voice made him turn around. "What are you hiding from me, Nicholas?"

My husband shook his head. "Stay out of it, Murph," he replied. "Dad and I are taking care of it, and the less you know, the better."

"Hugo's helping you take care of it?" I demanded then, my tone bitter.

Nicholas looked slightly shocked then. "Of course. He's my dad, and one of the best attorneys the State of Illinois has ever seen..."

I shook my head at him. "He's almost as good a liar as you are."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes then. "If you've got something to say about my father, Murphy, then fucking say it, and stop beating around the bush."

I glared at him, anger meeting rage. "Maybe you should talk to your father about our marital problems, Nicholas, seeing that he's already so involved, like it's any of his goddamned business," I replied, slamming my office door on his face. I leaned against it then, fully prepared to fight him off if he tried to get in, but I merely heard his sigh on the other side of the door, followed by retreating footsteps of a man approaching his breaking point.

. . .

The cryptic text from Nicholas a few hours later, informing me that he would be working late that night, was not at all surprising to me as I picked up Iana from preschool and the twins from daycare. Not wanting to be at home alone with them, I went across the street, not at all surprised to see Liam in front of the T.V., and placed the twins in the day bed across the room for a late afternoon nap, and allowed Iana to sit beside Liam.

Trudging into the kitchen, I deliberately walked past the fridge and went to sit down at the kitchen table. Knowing Ian would probably still be at work for another couple of hours, I sent him a text, letting him know where I was and that I'd likely be staying for a while. I didn't go into detail about my latest fight with Nicholas—that would come later, as it was something that should've been discussed face-to-face.

I dragged my hand over my mouth, placing my cell phone onto the surface of the table, smiling at the notion that Clayton and Fionn had been born on top of it, over a year ago. Things had been so much simpler then; Nicholas and I were happier, I didn't have a prison record, and Tommy Matthews had not yet entered our lives. I was the catalyst for everything, I knew that; AA had taught me to be responsible for my own actions, and through all the horror stories of parents driving drunk with their children in the car, I was pleased that I myself had never done such a thing, and although I understood the dark days of many people in AA, I couldn't understand the risk they had put their children, and themselves, in, no matter how incapacitated.

Maybe if I hadn't been arrested, Nicholas and I wouldn't have had marital problems, as Tommy wouldn't be in the picture, meaning that Nicholas wouldn't doubt my fidelity towards him. As I thought more about what ifs, I considered if Jimmy hadn't returned to the South Side, then maybe Fiona would've stayed behind as well, managing the apartment building and owning Patsy's, and just stayed with the family. Then, perhaps, I would've stayed at my unfulfilling job, but, of course, since my one-night stay in jail, the trust in me with the Blomqvist family had seemed to almost dwindle overnight. Maybe they would've ultimately trusted me again with meatier cases once I fully left maternity leave, and maybe, just maybe, I could've breastfed the twins longer, and not succumbed to my alcoholism...

What if...?

And it was then that I found myself in front of the refrigerator then, and opened it almost automatically, and stared at the beer bottles on the top shelf. Just the notion of how the beer would taste made me feel unsteady, and I found myself overwhelmed with desire for it. It was a completely overpowering sensation—the same amount and intensity that I would have for Nicholas, yet so vastly different—and I felt my grip slack slightly on the door of the fridge as I reached out to take a bottle. I lifted the bottle up into my hand then, cradling it as if it were as precious as an infant, and shut the door of the fridge behind me. Turning around, I slammed the bottle on the edge of the counter then, tossing the cap into the trash, and slowly, oh, deliciously slowly, proceeded to bring the opening of the bottle to my lips...

"Murphy!"

It was the shout of my twin that brought me back to reality, and while I had not drunk anything in the bottle, the scent had wafted into my nose, nearly causing my knees to buckle in need. "Ian, I... I can't..." I whispered.

"Don't do this to yourself, dammit!" he yelled then, slamming the kitchen door behind him then and advancing upon me, trying to grab the bottle from my hand.

"Please...don't," I whispered, my voice a plea as his eyes locked to mine. "I... I need it, Ian. Just let me have it...please..."

"Dammit, Murph, no!" Ian shouted.

"I fucking need it!" I cried out then, my voice breaking then as Ian fully managed to release my grip upon it, but it flew from his hands and fell to the kitchen floor, shattering between us. I let out a cry of anguish then, nearly falling to my knees to attempt to lick it up from the floor, but Ian's strong arms lifted me then and brought me towards the kitchen table again. "I need it, I need it, I need it..." I moaned, over and over again.

"Murphy, you fucking got sober," Ian said, hammering the point home as he got to his feet, and swept the glass from the bottle into the trash.

I shook my head. "Fuck sobriety. Fuck everything..."

"You're working the program so hard, Murph," he said gently, grabbing a rag and cleaning up the beer from the floor. "Give yourself a chance to get out of the darkness that you continue to be tempted by..."

I sighed. "What's the point anymore?" I asked, not sure if the question was rhetorical or not as he came to sit beside me.

Ian reached out then and took my hand. "What happened?" he asked. "Why do you suddenly want to break sobriety?"

"I've been wanting to break it since the twins turned one!" I cried out then. "When I found that fucking private investigator form that Hugo..." My voice broke as I turned away from him, feeling ashamed as I shook my head.

"Murph, you can't let this get to you."

I sighed. "Too late."

"Do you want a meeting?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Do you need a meeting?"

I lowered my eyes, biting down hard on my lower lip then, feeling like the ultimate failure then as tears continued to fall down my cheeks. "Yeah," I whispered.

Ian squeezed my hand. "Okay," he said, his tone gentle as he took out his phone, punching in a number.

"Here, let me," I said, reaching out for it. "Can't depend on you guys to hold my hand forever, literally or figurately."

Ian smiled. "Whatever you want, Murph."

I shook my head at him. "Wish it were that easy," I replied.

"Ian?" came Lip's voice on the phone when he picked up.

"Hey, Lip, it's me," I said into the speaker.

"Hey, Murph. Things okay?"

"No, they're not okay," I said quietly.

"Yeah? What's going on?"

I sighed. "I'm hanging on by a thread here, Lip," I replied. "Nicholas and I got into a fight tonight, which means my marriage is officially on the rocks again because of my husband's inability to be honest with me..."

"Murph?" Lip asked when I broke off. "What else is going on?"

I raised my eyes to Ian, who had heard everything, and gave me a nod. I knew that speaking about it aloud would be hard, but if I wanted to function properly in society, it had to be said, it just had to be... "I almost broke sobriety tonight," I whispered.


	10. Alive or Dead

Chapter Ten: Alive or Dead

Since I'd gotten shot while pregnant with the boys, I hadn't had to have any dialysis treatment, but I was on a kidney transplant list. I had been waiting anxiously, and now that I was over two months sober, the doctor's were beginning to think that I was becoming a candidate for a second kidney in the near future. When the call came on the first of March that there was finally a match for me, I immediately called in sick to work and made my way over to the hospital as soon as I had dropped the boys off at daycare and Iana at preschool.

"Name, please," the receptionist asked when I approached the desk.

"Murphy Gallagher-Blomqvist," I replied, getting my ID out of my wallet and handing it over, and somehow managed to smile at her.

"Oh, yeah, they found you a kidney match," the woman replied, typing in the information onto her computer. "Have you been fasting for over twelve hours?"

I nodded; I hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, and had not eaten since around eight-thirty the night before, and it was after nine a.m. "I haven't eaten for about twelve and a half hours now, if that's appropriate."

The woman nodded, handing me my ID back. "Very good," she replied, and promptly handed me a clipboard. "You'll have to fill this out for any new information in your medical history, Mrs. Blomqvist, and then someone will be with you in the next ten to fifteen minutes to prepare you for surgery and to put you under."

I nodded, gazing at the clipboard for a moment before raising my eyes to hers. "Sounds good," I said brightly with a smile. "Thank you very much." I crossed the room towards where the chairs were kept, picking one at random and checking my phone before I began to fill out the paperwork in front of me. I'd told Nicholas, Ian, Lip, and Debbie about my impending surgery, and all four said that they work accommodate me and come around later, after it was all over, to check up on me.

I tapped my pen against the stack of papers on the clipboard for a moment, bringing my bottom lip into my mouth and biting it, hard, as I attempted to focus on the medical jargon in front of me. Other than my own personal pathology—plus the reading I'd assigned myself on bipolar disorder since finding out that Ian was my twin—I didn't know a lot about medical treatments on the whole. One could easily say that it was not my designated forte, and while I knew a vague amount of terms from my years under Dr. Normal's regime, all I knew was, I should've done a little more homework on the whole kidney aspect of things...

"Murphy?"

I looked up then, a few moments later, when a nurse arrived to collect me. Getting to my feet, I forced a smile to my lips. "Yeah. Good morning."

"Morning," she replied breezily. "I'm Rebecca, and I'll take that, if you don't mind," she said, her tone gentle, as she reached out for my clipboard.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," I said, handing it over and catching her name as Ophelia on her name badge, which swung from her neck.

"Nervous about any of this?" she asked as we walked through the doors and down the long, well-lit hallway.

I let out a laugh. "Well, no guarantee I'll wake up, so..."

Rebecca looked slightly shocked at my apparent nonchalant attitude as we reached the exam room, where I presumed I would be put under, before being deposited onto a cart and brought into surgery itself. "While there are risks to any surgery, Murphy, as I'm sure you know, I know that you're in good hands."

"I don't doubt it," I replied.

"Good," Rebecca said, managing to smile at me as she motioned for me to sit down. "I'm just going to check you over and make sure that you're equipped for surgery this morning. Does that sound okay to you?"

I nodded. "Whatever you gotta do."

"Great," she said, and I removed my jacket and purse, which she promptly took from me. "These will be placed in your locker in your eventual recovery room."

"Sounds good," I replied.

Rebecca looked me over quickly yet efficiently for the next several minutes, until she nodded in satisfaction. "Everything looks fine, Murphy," she said with a smile. "I'll leave you to change into a hospital gown, and I'll go let the anesthesiologist know that we're ready to wheel you into surgery in the next few minutes."

I did my best to smile and act calm. "Sounds good, Rebecca. Thank you."

"No problem," she replied, pulling out a drawer in the set of them across the room, managing to correctly guess my size as she handed over a periwinkle hospital gown, patterned with microscopic white polka dots. "I'll just go let him know. Feel free to change in the bathroom here," she said brightly, opening another door located to my right, placed just next to the exam room's door. "We'll be back with you shortly."

I got to my feet as soon as Rebecca left, getting off my shoes and socks before I stepped onto the cool, tiled floor of the bathroom. Pulling off my shirt, jeans, bra, and underwear, I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment, remembering the key times in my life when I had stood naked in a bathroom. The first time was after Dr. Normal caught me with Jessica in my childhood bedroom, and how I'd been subjected to his abusive attack. The second was that drunken night in Mexico that I'd shared with Mickey, which had the word 'Mistake' written all over it. And the third and final one was after I'd come out of jail, realizing that Trevor had betrayed me, and a lump rose in my throat as I looked over my body.

The scars from Dr. Normal's belt; as well as the one from the bullet wound, which, by extension, had led to my kidney removal, and scar from that. Plus, there were the affects I'd gone through from the childbirths, and even though I had taken good care of myself after each time, I felt physically different, now that I'd carried children inside me, and knew I would never be, or look, the same again. It was when I heard a creak outside the bathroom and a door opening that I hastily moved to yank the hospital gown over my head, straightening it quickly, and pulling my hair out from beneath the back and slowly opened the bathroom door.

"Ah, there you are, Murphy," Rebecca said brightly. "This is Dr. Norris, the anesthesiologist on call this morning."

"Good to meet you, Dr. Norris," I said, putting out my hand.

"Good to meet you, too, Murphy," Dr. Norris replied, and I could see that a movable bed had already been brought in for me to lie on for transport. "Why don't you get on there, Murphy, and we'll discuss the process."

I nodded. "Sounds good to me," I replied, walking steadily past him and perching on the edge of it for a moment, before straightening the bottom of the gown again before I moved into a lying down position. "What do you need to know?"

"I need to know where you would like the needle for your I.V.," Dr. Norris said patiently, having already prepped the needle himself, which was connected to a bag of medicine, all on its own wheeled pole.

I nodded again. "Right, yeah," I said. "My right inner elbow, please."

Dr. Norris nodded. "Fair enough," he replied, snapping on a pair of gloves. His hands were warm, even beneath the latex as he gently moved up the sleeve of my hospital gown to get a good look at the area. "Oh, and look at that—there's a nice, big vein waiting there for me," he said with a chuckle, before moving back to retrieve the needle, as Rebecca hastily stepped in and sanitized the area. "Think you can count backwards from ten for me?" Dr. Norris asked, coming closer to me with the needle.

"No problem," I said, watching as he brought the needle closer. "Ten," I said quietly, as the needle went into my arm. "Nine, eight, seven..."

. . .

" _Wow..."_

 _I turned and looked over my shoulder at Lip, finding that I was smiling up at him as I managed to shrug my shoulders simultaneously. "Don't know why you're so surprised. I told you, I know how to do a thing or two..."_

" _What happened at work today?" he asked, leaning down his head and brushing his lips along my shoulder, the sensations within me causing my skin to ripple with pleasure. "You said that that tool Nicholas pulled something in court?"_

 _I sighed. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."_

" _Scar, you know I want to talk about it, because I fucking care a whole hell of a lot," Lip said then, his voice firm, as his arms snaked around my naked waist. "Come on. I really want to know what happened today."_

 _I sighed. "It's not just because you lost Xan?" I asked. "I mean, you just up and gave her mom that ten grand? She's an addict..."_

" _So am I," Lip said simply, his lips returning to my shoulder again. "But we're not talking about me, we're talking about you. What happened with Nicholas today?"_

 _I bit down on my lower lip. "He said that I was getting distracted during trial proceedings, and so he took it upon himself to take my questions from me and passed them off as his own work. I don't know if the judge bought it, though. I think there's some history there..."_

" _Yeah? How do you mean?"_

 _I smirked then, rolling over so that I could see Lip's expression. "Don't really know. But just something about the way he was looking at Nicholas when he was acting so pompous while asking the questions. Like he knew the language I'd used was different than his..."_

 _Lip grinned. "And is it?"_

" _Yes," I replied. "Sometimes I proof-read Nicholas's for spelling or grammar errors."_

" _Ever find anything?"_

" _Here and there, never anything too severe," I reply, rolling on top of him then, and feeling him becoming stiff as I do so. "But I think that tonight was just what I needed..."_

 _Lip looked proud of himself as he rubbed his hands up and down my back. "Yeah? How do you figure that, Scar?"_

 _I grinned. "I don't know. Just the concept of fucking in general," I said, a ripple of laughter escaping my lips then as Lip promptly lifted his hand to smack my ass. "Hey! Careful with the merchandise there, Gallagher..."_

 _Lip promptly grabbed me by the waist then, pulling me so that my back was on the couch and he was now on top of me, and I felt a short gasp escape from my lips then as he pinned my arms to each side of my body, and I was immediately putty in his hands. "I've never felt this way about anyone before, Scar."_

 _I blinked then, struggling to find my voice. "So, what are you saying?"_

" _I'm saying I'm crazy about you," Lip replied, looking shocked that the words were falling from his mouth. "I'm falling for you, Scar..."_

 _I felt my heart hammering in my chest then, knowing exactly what to say, although the anxiety pierced every bone in my body. "I'm falling for you, too, Lip..."_

. . .

"Murphy? Murphy..."

The familiar voice called me from oblivion then and, as I opened my eyes, I was momentarily blinded by the lights around me. Struggling slightly, I managed to push myself upwards from my lying-down position, and looked around, feeling at ease when I saw Ian sitting beside me. "Hey, there," I said, my voice slightly scratchy, and my twin smiled indulgently before handing over a cup of water. "Thanks," I said, taking it and sipping it carefully. "Are you the only disciple who is here today?" I joked.

Ian grinned at me. "No, don't worry. We're taking sitting with you in shifts. Nicholas, Lip, and Debs are down in the cafeteria."

"And the twins? And Iana?"

"With Liam, don't worry," Ian said gently, and I immediately felt relieved. "How are you feeling though, Murph? Any pain?"

I shook my head. "No. I feel..." I sighed, leaning back down against my pillows. "...not bad, exactly. Just...confused..."

"Confused?"

I scoffed. "Yeah. I guess the whole thing about uncovering repressed memories when you're under heavy drugs is true..."

"Yeah?" Ian asked. "You remember something?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah. About...Lip...and me..."

Ian made a face. "Dear god, do I even want to know?!"

I smirked, bringing the cup of water back to my lips. "No," I said, sipping it steadily. "No, I don't think you do."

. . .

I was released from the hospital after only three days and permitted to return home immediately, and even Nicholas seemed to tread extra carefully around me. He handled the pick-ups and drop-offs of the kids until the second day of the second complete week of March, when I woke up early and decided to go into work. I didn't discuss it with Nicholas, but the fact that I came downstairs all dressed and ready was a surprise for him; I'd only just resumed cooking and cleaning over the weekend, despite his warnings to take it easy.

"Murph?"

I smiled at everyone gathered in the kitchen, kissing each of my children's foreheads before I moved to kiss Nicholas on the cheek. "Morning," I said, getting a cereal bar from the cabinet and chewing it as I made sure all of their lunches were prepared.

"Uh, Murph?"

I sighed, turning to look at my husband. "Yes, Nicholas?"

"You're dressed...like you're going to work..."

I nodded. "Well, I _am_ going to work..."

"The doctors said three to six weeks, Murph..."

I rolled my eyes. "And I say they can't order me around forever," I said, my voice peppered ever so slightly with annoyance. "You know me—I tend to bounce back from set-backs quickly," I went on, as Nicholas proceeded to rub his temples in exasperation. "So, I am going into work this morning, and if I don't feel up to working the full day, I won't. Satisfied?"

Nicholas sighed. "Okay. Fine. I obviously can't order you around forever either."

Something in his tone caused me to stop preparing the kids' lunches then, and I immediately attempted to lock eyes with my husband. "Nicholas... Is something going on here? Because, if it is, as your wife, I'd like to know..."

He sighed for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something, but immediately looked at his phone then and turned to the kids. "Okay, kids! Say goodbye to Mama, because we've gotta get going this morning!"

Iana immediately got down from her booster seat and dashed over to me, hugging my legs as I bent down to kiss her forehead. "Bye, Mama," she said sweetly as I handed over her lunch. "See you later."

"See you later, baby," I replied as I turned to see Nicholas adjusting his briefcase and then picking up the baby bag, and then picked up the twins. "Need any help?" I asked, crossing over and putting the boys' lunches into the baby bag.

Nicholas shook his head. "No, I got it," he said, kissing my cheek. "Say goodbye to the boys then, honey. Boys, can you say bye to Mama?"

"Bye-bye, Mama," Clayton said.

"Bye, Mama," Fionn put in.

I smiled at the two of them and touched their heads briefly. "Put hats on the two of them, will you?" I asked.

Nicholas nodded, but I rolled my eyes and went off to get the hats for him. "Thank you," he said, meeting me at the front door, where Iana was waiting, in her coat, hat, mittens, and her bag all over her shoulder.

I nodded. "No problem. Have a good day."

"Love you," Nicholas said.

"Love you, too," I replied, watching as Iana opened the door and dashed outside, and Nicholas moved to follow with the twins.

I worked for the next three days, managing to keep my head down at work and somehow staying religious about my medication, but never going overboard. Because of my recovery process, I hadn't been able to attend AA meetings as often as I'd liked, but I had gone the month before to get my two-month sober chip. I often turned it over and over in my hands, pleased that I'd earned something like that, after all the time I'd struggled internally with the disease that had pecked away at my psyche.

On Friday, after several days of Nicholas passive aggressively telling me that I shouldn't have gone back to work so soon, I got off work and got into my car. Although every cell of my being was telling me to call Lip and go to a meeting with him, I drove in the opposite direction. When the red awning of The Alibi Room came into focus, something compelled me to pull over, park, and head inside. Stepping over the threshold, I immediately went to the bar, where Kev was serving, and hopped onto a stool. Kev turned as I sat, with a smile for me, and immediately got me a glass of water, and I saluted him for understanding. As I sipped it, V came around the corner and saw the glass, eyeing it with slight disapproval before she saw who its holder was, and she immediately came over.

"Sorry, Murph—I thought it was a loser trying to get something out of us for free."

I smiled at her. "I'll happily pay for it, V. I don't mind."

V shook her head. "Nah, girl, you're family. Don't worry about it. Just leave a nice tip before you go," she said, flashing me a smile. "Where the kids at?"

"Nicholas has them at home," I replied.

V nodded, leaning over the bar and considering it. "You don't sound very happy to be talking about your husband."

I shrugged. "It is what it is."

"What'd he do this time?" Kev asked, saddling up beside V.

I raised my eyebrows as I sipped my water. "What?" I asked, nearly choking on it at how severe Kev sounded.

"Listen, Murph, I don't know if Fi would want me to say this, but she kind of asked me and V to help look after you, now that she's gone."

I looked at them both, my eyes sliding from one to the other like we were at fucking Wimbledon or something. "I'm sorry. What?"

"She was like a sister to us, Murphy, which means that so are you," V put in. "Hell, you named one of your sons after Kev."

"Middle name, baby," Kev said to V, before flashing me a smile. "And you so didn't have to do that, but I am honored."

I smiled at them. "Well, I'm glad to have even more siblings," I said.

"Whatever you need, girl, we're here," V said, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

I bit my lip, considering that. "Well, maybe you two could just... Tell me something, you know, about my mother...about Monica. Fi, Lip, Ian, Debs, and Carl never really like talking about her, and besides, Liam doesn't really remember her. Carl's overseas somewhere, Fi's in New York and hated her, and the rest of them are busy with work, so I wouldn't want to use my time with them negatively..."

Kev sighed. "I heard from Fi she left you a letter."

I nodded. "Yeah, she did. She said that, looking back on it, she gave up the wrong twin," I said then, a bitter laugh escaping my mouth. "You know, because I'm Frank's kid, and Ian isn't. I guess I just want to know something..."

"She was the life of the party," Kev said quietly.

I looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," V put in. "When she wasn't in one of her down moods, she was fun and energetic and everyone around her was automatically happy."

"Wonder if it would've made any difference," I said, sipping at my water.

"What, Murph?" Kev asked.

I sighed, hunching my shoulders. "I don't know. I guess, what I'm saying is, what if Monica hadn't given me up? Would my life be better now? I don't fucking know..."

"I know it's hard, girl..." V put in.

I shrugged. "You have a good mother, V. You're one of the lucky ones..."

The door suddenly swung open from behind us, letting in a rush of late-winter air then as someone stepped inside. "Hello, my brethren!" came a shout then, and my hackles immediately came up as the door slammed behind the person, and Frank sashayed in a triumphant manner up to the bar and sat down. "Boilermaker, please, Kev."

"Whatever, Frank," Kev said, moving away from me and preparing it for him, as V patted my hand and moved away from me.

"Well, well, well," Frank went on as his drink was placed in front of him, "if it isn't my third daughter, Murphy. How are ya, kid?"

I scoffed. "Worse off, now that you're here, Frank."

"Oh, come on," Frank said, getting to his feet and taking ahold of me by the shoulders and guiding me over to where he was sitting, along with some guys which could've been friends of his, although I had no idea. "Fellas, this is Murphy. My daughter."

"Who isn't your kid, Frank?"

"Come on, Kermit," Frank said. "Don't you see it? She's a spitting image of Monica!"

I yanked myself away from him. " _Don_ ' _t_ compare me to her, you sick son of a bitch! She may have abandoned me first, but you had more of a chance to make the situation right, and you chose not to. So, get the hell off me and away from me..."

"Uh-oh," Frank said, watching my expression then. "I know a marriage that's on the rocks when I see one, even if it's one-half the party."

I shot Frank a glare. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You don't appear to have been sleeping lately, my darling daughter, and you're clearly on edge about something. The kids okay?"

I scoffed. "They're fine, Frank. Not that they're any of your business..."

"Well, fine. Is work all right?"

"Yes, Frank. It's peachy."

"Well, then, it's gotta be you and Nicholas then. Am I right?"

"Yes, Frank. Whoop-di-doo. You were fucking right. Now, go jerk off in the bathroom and leave me alone," I muttered, sipping my water again.

Frank sighed. "Can't get drunk off that."

"Frank, I'm sober. Leave me alone."

"Kev, I'll have two shots of whiskey, please," Frank said, turning away from me and looking over at Kev. "Come on—make it snappy."

Kev rolled his eyes, but nevertheless produced the drinks. "Better slow down, Frank," he warned before stepping away.

Frank immediately reached forward and grabbed my glass of water away from me, before he slammed the whiskey in front of me. "This'll make you feel better."

I shook my head at him. "Get that poison away from me, Frank."

"Come on, Murphy—we're Irish," Frank said, "and today is a very special day. It's St. Patrick's Day, and thank god you're wearing green, because otherwise, I'd have to pinch you."

"If you pinched me, I'd have you on your ass in five seconds flat. Don't you fucking think about trying it, old man," I muttered, staring at the whiskey.

"Oh, fuck this," Frank said, making a grab for the whiskey and bringing it to my lips, where it poured effortlessly down my throat, despite my struggling and thrashing.

"Frank!" Kev screamed then, as I coughed, shaking all over as my senses seemed to dull almost immediately. "What the fuck have you done?!"

"Kev..." I whispered, my voice raw from the whiskey.

"Murph, it's okay. It's all okay..."

I raised my eyes to Kev's then, knowing that I was done, and that all was lost. "I'll have another one, Kev," I whispered.

"There, you see," Frank said happily, slapping me on the back. "That's my girl. She can hold it, Kev—she's a Gallagher."

"Murph, are you sure you—?"

"Yeah, Kev, I'm sure," I said, trying my best to enunciate. "Give me a bottle of Old Style, my drink of choice."

. . .

The next hour and a half was a haze of shouts, beer, and Frank and his friends—and, by extension, me—laughing in joy for St. Patrick, whoever the hell he was. As we continually slapped the counter for more and more booze, I felt no remorse going through me; in fact, I felt warm and happier than I had in a long time. Walking into The Alibi, I'd felt cold and unfeeling, and now I was slowly beginning to feel like my old self again.

I excused myself to go to the ladies room then, having taken about twenty minutes from my last beer to the present. I vaguely heard Frank ordering me another drink as I stumbled across the bar and into the bathroom, barely registering how distasteful the room itself was. I walked over to the sinks, methodically washing my hands, before I raised my eyes automatically to the mirror, and shuddered, gasping aloud then and darting back. I could barely make out my expression, as my vision was swimming, and I found I could barely stand.

 _No_.

I began shaking all over again then as I returned to the sink, splashing water over my face to clear my senses like there was no tomorrow. It helped, slightly, as I fumbled into the pocket of my jeans, rummaging for my phone in my shaking hands. Quickly, I managed to get Lip's number keyed in, and brought the phone up to my ear, knowing that I could be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble, but I needed Lip, for he was the only one who would understand...

"Hey, Murph," he said when he picked up. "Working late?"

"L-Lip!" I managed to get out, a combination of fear and inebriation preventing me from speaking as clearly as I would like.

"Murph?" Lip said, immediately sounding concerned. "What's up?

"I'm... At The Alibi," I said, speaking in broken-up sentences as my vision slowly became fuzzy again, and I leaned up against the wall, in an effort to keep from falling.

"Murphy, please don't tell me that you..."

My knees buckled then as I dropped my phone, vaguely hearing it clatter to the floor as I dove for the first stall, falling to my knees. Once my head was in the toilet, I hurled like there was no tomorrow, my stomach acids burning everywhere from my intestines to my throat. I could unclearly hear Lip screaming at me from my phone, as my vision began experiencing black spots, and as I crumpled, in a heap, to the floor, my senses extinguishing.

. . .

"She's out of the woods, for now," said a voice as I slowly began to become aware of my surroundings again. "What is your relationship to the patient?"

"Older brother."

"Okay, then. And she is how old?"

"Murphy's twenty-six, and I'm twenty-eight..."

"All right. Well, she should be waking up any moment now. Your sister had a severe bout of alcohol poisoning, Phillip, but I'm sure that you'll watch over her. You mentioned in her intake forms that addiction runs in the family?"

"Yeah, our dad's an alcoholic, our mom was an addict and alcoholic. Murphy and I got the alcohol gene and really ran with it..."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Phillip," the woman went on, as I finally escaped completely from behind the curtain and looked around.

"Lip?" I managed to get out, and Lip turned to look at me.

"She's awake."

The curtain around my hospital bed was pulled back, and the doctor that Lip had been speaking to stepped forward. "Hello there, Murphy. How are you feeling?"

I sighed. "I'm okay. Now. I guess..."

"Well, you gave your brother quite a scare here," the woman said with a smile. "But, looking at your vitals, I'd say with some rest and the fluids we're giving you, you should fully recover, and be released tomorrow morning."

I nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

She nodded back. "No problem. Your brother can stay with you, if you like."

I turned to Lip, who raised his eyebrows, leaving it up to me. "Please," I said, and the woman gestured towards a chair beside my bed, and Lip sat, and then the woman left us alone. "I'm so sorry about this, Lip..."

"Sorry?" he asked. "Sorry for...?"

"Jesus," I muttered. "I'm sorry for letting Frank get to me, which directly led to my reckless behavior and breaking my sobriety. Two months...gone."

Lip leaned forward then. "Frank got to you?"

I sighed. "Wasn't all his fault, but he contributed to my actions this evening, yes."

"How do you mean?"

"Son of a bitch poured whiskey down my throat, and then..." I spread my hands. "Then, thinking clearly went out the window."

"Fuck, Murph."

I nodded. "I know. Fuck," I whispered.

"So, now comes the confessions..."

I turned and looked at Lip. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, obviously, we're going to have to tell Nicholas. Or you are..."

I stared at him in shock. "Are you fucking insane right now?!"

Lip looked startled. "What?"

"Lip, seriously, neither of us can tell him this," I whispered, my voice shaking.

Lip shook his head. "Wait. What are you talking about?"

"Lip, Nicholas said last time if this ever happened again, he'd take the kids away from me and to his parents' house, and god knows I've been on their shit list since Halloween," I said, putting my face into my hands. "Jesus Christ... If any of them get wind of this, I'm up shit creek, and I'll never live down my kids getting taken, Lip. It can't happen, it just can't."

Lip put his hand on my arm, and I immediately looked up at him. "Swear to me that this will never happen again."

"Lip..."

"Swear," he said, his silver eyes intense, and red-rimmed, leaving me to believe that I was further gone than I'd originally thought, and, suddenly, I truly came to grips with this entire situation we'd been faced with.

"I swear," I replied, meaning it from the bottom of my heart.

Lip sighed then, nodding, before he pulled back and sat regularly in his chair again. "Okay," he said quietly.

I blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said. "I won't tell Nicholas. I'll cover your ass, Murphy, just this once, and try to figure out a way for you to get out of this mess without suspicion. I'll do whatever it takes for you to keep your kids, now that I have your word that it'll never happen again."

I nodded. "It won't."

Lip locked his eyes with mine. "I know it won't," he replied. "Because if it does, I'll go fucking ape shit and beat the shit out of you."

I sighed. "And part of me would let you, because I beat you right back."

Lip reached out and took my hand, squeezing it. "Gallagher's," he said softly.

I nodded back at him. "Gallagher's," I replied.


	11. Are You In Or Out?

Chapter Eleven: Are You In Or Out?

Things had died down by the beginning of April, and I was beginning to forget that I'd broken my sobriety, although there was the constant reminder of AA meetings with Lip, and the chips that I'd continually hide from Nicholas, so as to keep up the secret. Nicholas seemed to have his own problems to attend to, however, and would continually stay up later and later in our study attending to them. I knew it was unhealthy, the state of our marriage, given that we both had massive secrets we were keeping from one another, and yet, neither of us could seem to stop our pattern of behavior, and yet I found I was self-aware enough to know that the breaking point had to be just around the corner.

"You were holding back tonight."

I shrugged at my older brother, methodically taking the cigarette from between his fingers and taking a sharp inhale upon it myself. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot to say. The diner really does stress me out, you know that, and so me talking about work isn't necessarily a bad thing." I looked over at him and smirked. "Besides, I've always been the standoffish type. I think you're well-aware of this."

"Standoffish also denotes unfriendly," Lip replied quickly, reaching out and snagging the cigarette back before I could take a second puff. "You're not unfriendly, necessarily. On a good day, you can be polite."

"I can attempt to be polite," I replied, growing impatient with Lip hogging the cigarette, so I got one out of my pocket and lit it up myself. "Guess it really depends on what's going on personally and professionally with me...and who the person I'm communicating with is..."

"You talked professional tonight," my brother said, thinking that over. "How about personal? Is there something you want to share?"

I shook my head. "Not willingly, no."

"How about unwillingly?" he asked. "I'm your brother—your older brother. If something's fucking with you, I want to know."

"More of a someone than a something, if you want to be that black and white about the whole thing," I replied, shrugging again as I stuck the cigarette between my teeth, and stuffed my hands into my pockets to ward off the chill to the early spring air. "Not much to talk about other than the old news."

"That Nicholas is keeping secrets?"

I scoffed. "Yep," I replied. "So, what else is new, really?"

"Are you any closer to figuring it out?"

I shook my head at him. "Nope, and I'd be a hypocrite for trying, Lip. There's me and all my problems and secrets and lies to account for as well. There are two of us in this marriage, and we neither of us are doing a very good job of taking care of it properly."

"What do you think he's keeping from you?"

I sighed. "I want to think that he's cheating on me, because that's the worst thing I can think of right now," I replied, feeling like a total bitch for even considering it. "I mean, personally, I think it would justify some of my bad behavior. And besides, it would paint Nicholas as the ultimate hypocrite between the two of us, and then I could throw back into his face about how much he was convinced that I was cheating on him..."

"He ever ask you about it?"

"No, not so much anymore," I reply. "We barely discuss anything, other than the kids. He barely spoke to me after the procedure to give me another kidney, and then there was the lame excuse I gave for the night I got alcohol poisoning, by saying I fell asleep at work..."

"You think he believed you?"

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "I think the problem with all this is that Nicholas just doesn't care anymore, not like he used to. When he stood to lose me—all those times we broke up before we got married—he seemed to care. And, in the weeks after I got out of jail, he was hammering the point home about how much he wanted another baby, but..."

Lip stared at me then, a wave of concern flowing through him. "What?"

"He doesn't look at me the way he used to," I reply. "I mean, we... We still, you know, have sex and all that, but there's no emotion behind it anymore. The passion and intensity that we had for so long seems to be gone. Only once did we have it in the last several months, and that was right before I decided to take over Patsy's. I realize that marriages and certain aspects along with them aren't necessarily going to be the same as time goes by but I at least thought that there would be some affection..."

"You mean love?"

I turned and looked at Lip fully then. "What?"

"You're not like typical married couples, Murph. You know that, right?"

I felt my eyebrows knit together. "Since when have you known a typical married couple, Lip? I mean, you barely saw Fiona and Gus together, and Fiona and Sean never made it to the altar. Not to mention how out there Kev and V are, although I love them to death. I also remember that professor that you had—Helene, wasn't it?—who had a pretty open marriage with her husband, given that he didn't fully seem to give a shit that you and his wife were fucking for an extended period of time, and even went away together. And, not to mention our dear parents, Frank and Monica, who aren't even in the spectrum of normal..."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Lip said, throwing up his hands. "I don't exactly have a real-world example of what a typical married couple looks like. But, I do know that married couples tend to say, 'I love you' every now and again."

I shrugged. "So?"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think I've ever heard the two of you say it often, and, if you do, he's the one who says it first."

I sighed. "I can't say it, Lip. Not to him, not unsolicited. I just..." I wrapped my hands around my arms then, hugging myself, in a moment of vulnerability. "I don't think I could handle the notion that he couldn't say it back to me."

"You really think he wouldn't say it back?"

I shrugged, extinguishing my cigarette as I checked my phone, knowing I had to get back home before Iana went to bed. "At this point, Lip, I can't guarantee anything solid when it comes to my marriage," I reply.

. . .

"Are we ever going to go over to my parents' place for Easter?" Nicholas asked in that passive aggressive tone he'd frequently used with me over the past several months.

I did my best to keep my tongue as I baked the chicken for myself, and for the select few family members that preferred it over the stereotypical Easter ham. "I don't know, Nicholas," I reply, my tone clipped as I struggle to keep my temper. "Are you finally going to tell me what you've been keeping from me for months?"

"I'm not keeping anything from you, Murphy," Nicholas replied.

I sighed, shaking my head. "The chicken should be done in twenty minutes," I reply, "and you and I need some space. You finish it, and I'll take the kids across the street," I tell him, my voice just firm enough so he won't try to wriggle out of it. I make my way out of the kitchen and through the living room to the base of the stairs, which I climb, and find that Iana is making sure that Fionn and Clayton are keeping clean in the nursery. "You've done a good job there, angel," I said, pulling her briefly into my arms and kissing her forehead.

"Thanks, Mama," she replies, beaming up at me. "Where's Daddy?" she wants to know, looking over my shoulder.

"Daddy is downstairs finishing the chicken," I reply patiently, lowering her to the ground as I cross towards the boys, who are sitting on the floor, rolling a ball between them. "He's going to finish the chicken while we all go to see Uncle Ian. How does that sound?"

"Good," Iana replies.

"Why don't you put your shoes on, sweetheart?" I ask, lifting up the boys after I've situated their pre-packed baby bag over my arm. "We gotta run."

"Okay!" my daughter said, dashing out of the nursery and down the hall to her bedroom, only to come running back seconds later, her shoes all in place. "Ready!"

I laughed, loving how excited she seemed. "Yes, I can see that," I reply, walking with her towards the stairs, careful to keep a grip on the boys. "Can you hold their bag for me, please, sweetheart?" I ask her.

"Yes, Mama," Iana tells me, reaching up and taking it easily, before bouncing down the stairs ahead of me. "See you soon, Daddy!" she calls before grabbing her sweater and heading outside and running down the stairs.

"Not too far, sweetheart!" I call after her, sensing Nicholas behind me as I turn around. "Say goodbye to Daddy, boys."

"Bye, Daddy," Fionn says.

"Bye-bye, Daddy," Clayton replies.

"Bye, boys," Nicholas says, kissing both their foreheads, before hesitating and kissing me on the cheek. "I know we have more to discuss..."

"Not now," I said, gesturing with my head towards the boys as I turned and walked out of the house, hearing him shut the door behind me. "Okay, sweetheart, you can open the gate for me, but I'll need you to close it behind me."

"Okay!" Iana crowed, opening it effortlessly and stepping onto the sidewalk, and held it wide for me as I passed through with the boys, whereupon she shut and secured it. "Is everyone coming today, Mama?" she asked.

"Everyone except Aunt Fiona and Uncle Carl," I replied steadily, not going into details, for I knew she knew why they wouldn't be able to attend.

Iana nodded as we looked both ways before crossing the street. "And Grandpa?"

"Grandpa is with Grandma across town, sweetheart," I said, attempting to retain my composure as I considered Hugo and Allie for a moment.

"No, Mama. I mean Grandpa Frank," Ian said, spelling it out for me as we made it across the street and just outside the gate of the house. "Will Grandpa Frank be there?"

My mouth suddenly went dry. "We don't see Grandpa Frank, sweetheart..."

"I see Grandpa Frank, Mama."

I stopped in my tracks then, hardly noticing that Iana had opened the gate herself and was waiting patiently for me to walk through it. "Where have you seen Grandpa Frank, angel?" I asked her, attempting to keep my voice from shaking.

"At school," Iana said, a bright smile on her face. "Grandpa Frank comes to see me at school to tell me that I look just like Grandma Monica. Where is Grandma Monica, Mama?"

I shook my head, attempting to clear it as I forced my legs to walk again and pushed myself through the gate and towards the steps. "Where do you think she is, sweetheart?" I somehow manage to ask.

"Grandpa Frank said she died," Iana replied, and I vaguely heard the gate squeaking shut behind her, before she bounded ahead of me and tried the door handle, which was unlocked. "Uncle Liam!" she cried out then, and dashed through to the living room, while I barely managed to hold it together as I stepped inside myself, kicking the front door shut behind me as I made my way inside the living room as well.

"Hey, little man," I said automatically, bending down and kissing the top of his head before I set the boys on the floor. "Keep your eye on them, will you?" I asked.

"Sure," Liam replied, his face in his cell phone. "No problem."

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to deal with teenage angst as I stepped through to the kitchen, where I saw Ian preparing Easter dinner. "Hey," I muttered, setting down the baby bag in a corner and leaning up against the counter.

"Hey, yourself," Ian replied, taking a break from cooking to step towards me and pull me in an automatic gesture into his arms. "You're stiff today," he commented, pulling back a moment later and returning to food preparation. "Everything okay?"

I shook my head. "Nope," I replied, gripping the counter, the urge to drink off the charts. "Just everything seems to happen at once and shits really hitting the fan..."

"What happened?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Where do I begin?" I muttered. "My marriage is falling apart because of Nicholas's inability to admit that he's keeping secrets from me. I'm barely holding onto my sobriety because of a stupid mistake I made. And, to top everything off, Frank has taken it upon himself to make visits to Iana at school."

"Frank found out where she goes to school?"

I scoffed. "Apparently, because I sure as shit didn't tell him."

Ian nodded, absorbing my words. "What do you think Nicholas is keeping from you?"

"What isn't he keeping from me?" I replied bitterly. "Fuck if I know..."

My twin sighed, obviously wanting to help me, and yet I wasn't giving him very much to go on with my problems. "You think he's cheating?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

"And what's this mistake you made?" Ian asked. "You break sobriety?"

Immediately, I shook my head at him. "No!" I cried out then, the lie falling off my tongue as I did my best to swallow the truth. "No, of course not."

Ian gives me a surprised expression then, looking as if he wants to say more on the subject, but immediately cuts himself off when Debbie comes inside the kitchen door, holding tightly to Franny's hand. "Hey, Debs," he said with a smile.

"Hey," she said, her face flushed, and I wonder if she ran here. "Sorry we're late. The buses are really unpredictable on holidays..."

"You could've called me for a ride, Debs. Hey, Franny!" I said, bending down and picking up Franny, swinging her around for a moment before kissing her cheek and setting her down. "And your Cousin Iana is in the living room waiting for you."

"Iana?!" Franny cried, dashing past me and running into the living room.

"You bring the pies?" Debbie asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, they're in the fridge at my place. Nicholas should bring them over with the chicken in the next ten minutes."

"Fantastic," Debbie replied, turning to look at the table, which we would have to elongate somehow, to accommodate Lip, Kev, V, Amy, and Jemma as well. "Want us to get started on this, Ian?" she asked, gesturing between the two of us.

"That'd be great—I know Lip'll help too, when he gets here, and Kev," Ian replied.

"Let's get to work then," I replied, because, realistically speaking, I would welcome any distraction at this point. My phone vibrated as we got to work, and I moved to check it, not really knowing what to expect. "Oh. That's too bad..."

"What's up?" Debbie asked, picking up a chair as I typed out a quick reply.

"Kev decided to do a theme day at The Alibi, so he's not going to make it today. You'd be surprised how many customers he's getting," I tell her, shaking my head as I move to grab a chair and haul it into the living room.

"V still coming with the girls?"

"Kev says so," I reply.

"That's a relief," Debbie puts in quietly.

I smirk at her as we continue to get the tables and chairs set up, and Lip arrives soon thereafter, managing to scrub up another table to make sure we had enough space for everyone. I manage to convey to Lip through glances that the day is difficult, but nothing I can't handle, and he punches his fist into his palm, letting me know he's got my back no matter what. When V arrives with the girls—who quickly move to play with Franny and Iana—the picture is nearly complete, even though we are missing two Gallagher kids and my husband, who comes through the door, arms laden with the chicken and pies, a few minutes after V's arrival.

Once Nicholas gets the provisions into the kitchen for V to plate up with Lip and Ian, he comes into the living room where I am watching the kids with Liam and Debbie, and places his hand on my arm. "Can we talk now, Murph?"

I sighed, turning to look at Debbie, who raises her eyebrows. "We'll be upstairs for a few minutes, okay?"

Debbie nodded. "Sure. Okay."

I squeezed her shoulder before turning around, making my way up the stairs, hearing Nicholas just behind me as we step into the main hallway. I turn around and face him then, crossing my arms in a moment of exasperation. "Well?" I ask him.

"Look, I know you know there's some shit going on, Murph—I know you well enough to know when you know I'm keeping something from you."

"Dammit," I whispered, putting my head into my hands. "So, you are keeping something from me, Nicholas?"

"Yeah, I'm keeping something from you."

"Shit," I whispered, dragging my palms down my face before I looked up at him again. "What the fuck is going on here, Nicholas?"

"I can't tell you, Murph."

"Jesus Christ," I whispered, my voice breaking then as I raised my eyes towards the ceiling, hot tears escaping from my eyes. "Are you fucking someone? Just... Can you tell me that, at least? I need to know if you're fucking someone else..."

"Murph..."

"Don't you dare 'Murph' me, Nicholas!" I cried out, lowering my eyes from the ceiling so that I can lock them with his. "What the fuck is going on here? I can't understand it. Shutting yourself up in the study for hours; secret, late-night phone calls; hiding information from me—your fucking wife. I'm your wife, Nicholas," I said, my fingers curling into a fist as I thump my chest, my voice unable to keep from shaking. "Why the fuck do you just allow yourself to keep things from me?!"

"For Christ's sake, Murph!" he cried out then, his dark eyes looking shocked that I would automatically accuse him of cheating. "Why the fuck would you assume I'm cheating on you? I would never do something like that..."

"How the fuck should I know anymore, Nicholas?!" I demand. "Every minute, I turn around and find out that there's another fucking layer to the mystery of you, and I'm sick and tired of all the secrets and lies! Why do you fucking do this to me?! To the kids?! Do you realize that what you're doing is hurting me, and all of us?!"

"We're not communicating like we should, Murphy, I know that, but can you admit that it's not all one-sided here?" he asked. "Can you admit that it's not all on me?"

"Don't," I whispered then, pointing at him, my finger shaking as I fought with myself to keep my cool with him, though I knew it was already lost. "Don't you dare try to turn this on me. I know that there are two of us in this marriage, Nicholas, but, right now, we're talking about you. Just you. Nobody else."

"Admit it, Murph."

I shook my head at him. "Stop this."

"Not until you admit it."

"You fucking admit it!" I burst out then. "Admit that you're fucking someone else, or that your father convinced you to figure out a way out of this marriage!"

Nicholas looked shocked then that I'd mentioned Hugo unprovoked, and I immediately covered my mouth, shocked at myself that I'd allowed those words to escape my mouth. "Murph, what does my father have to do with any of this?"

I shook my head then, slowly allowing my hand to fall from my mouth. "Nothing," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "He doesn't have anything to do with this..."

Nicholas looked amazed then, raising an eyebrow. "What do you know?"

"I don't fucking know anything anymore," I said, spreading my hands, "because of your refusal to be up-front with me."

"It's not a refusal, Murph..."

"If you're going to say that you're doing it to protect me, then don't. Fucking don't. I'm sick and tired of you treating me like I'm some fragile creature about to break. I'm not—I'm fucking not, Nicholas, and it needs to stop. It needs to stop right now. I've been to hell and back again, Nicholas, and this can't be anything I can't handle."

He sighed, dragging his hands through his hair. "I can't tell you, Murph. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you. Not this."

"You said the same goddamn thing when you found out who set the fire, and that it was meant to kill me," I whispered to him then, advancing upon him then and taking his collar into my hands and shaking him slightly. "Who the fuck are you protecting, Nicholas, that you can't tell your fucking wife about anything anymore?!"

Nicholas looked amazed at how physically close we were, and I knew full well that, if I let my guard down completely, I'd let him slam me against the wall and kiss me, and do god knows what else. "Can you just trust me on this?" he whispered, reaching up then and gently placing his hand over my fingers, tangled amongst themselves upon his collar. "Just trust me on this one thing, Murph. I am literally begging you."

I shake my head then, the tremors that flow through me at the physical contact revolting me to no end as I yank myself away from him. "No," I said vehemently. "I can't, Nicholas."

"You can't?"

"I won't," I tell him, brushing past him and walking down the stairs.

Without saying a word to anyone, and ignoring the curious glances on all sides, I merely walked through the living room and out the front door. I slammed it behind me, mentally crossing my fingers that I wouldn't be followed, and headed down the stairs and through the gate. Crossing the street, I went to my car and unlocked it, letting myself inside and locking all the doors behind me before I stuck my key into the ignition and drove off into the night. I only got a few blocks away before I pulled off to the side of the road, not really going any particular direction, and stopped my car completely. I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, my entire body shaking as I struggled to regain composure. I found it was a lost cause then, and a scream came forth from my lips then, and I found I couldn't stop for several moments. When I was all screamed out, I looked around then, the familiar red awning of The Alibi directly opposite the passenger side of my parked car, and I hopped out automatically, slamming and locking my door behind me and trooping inside.

"Hey, Kev," I said, stepping inside, my voice hoarse.

"Jesus, you look like hell," Kev replied, looking me up and down.

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

Kev sighed. "Water?"

"Please," I replied.

Kev nodded in understanding, and I perched up in a barstool and waited for him to serve me my drink. "On the house, of course. Holiday family and friends discount."

"Hey, Kev—"

"Can it, Kermit. You're a customer, and so you don't fall into either category," Kev said, his voice firm as he went to wipe down the bar.

I gazed at the condensation that slowly appeared around the edges of my glass, a squeak of a door in front of me momentarily distracting me. Looking up, I was surprised to see Tommy walking out of the men's room, and, when he saw me, he waved me over to his booth across the bar. Thinking nothing of it, I picked up my water and crossed over to him, accepting his hug before I got into the booth across from him.

"How've you been, Murphy?"

I shrugged. "Can't complain."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking me over. "You look tired."

I laughed. "I run a business, a household, have three kids, a husband, and a shit ton of siblings. I have my work cut out for me, Tommy. Believe me."

He nods. "I do."

I smiled. "Least somebody in South Side does..."

"What's been going on, Murph?"

I bit my lip. "Things have been...complicated recently. I can't really explain it, not because I don't want to, but because I don't even know the half of it."

Tommy considered my words then, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. "How do you mean? How could you only know half of something?"

I spread my hands. "That's just it—I do."

"Well, what half do you know?"

"I know that my marriage is totally fucked right now," I whispered, hating that my voice was trembling again, and that more tears fell from my eyes. "I hate that I don't feel like I even know my husband anymore. My gut is telling me to just threaten to throw in the towel, like he did with me, because I straightened up..."

"Nicholas is acting up?"

I shook my head at him. "I don't know," I said softly. "All I know is, he's in our study for hours at a time, and there's been late-night phone calls. I feel like he's distant, but when I confronted him tonight about it..." I shook my head again. "He said he couldn't tell me."

"He say it was because he had to protect you? Like with the fire?"

I nodded. "Not in so many words, but it was implied, yeah."

Tommy crossed his arms, leaning back against the booth. "What are you gonna do? You've built a life with him. Plus, there's the kids to think about..."

"Nicholas even told Iana his suspicions about the two of us," I muttered. "She's way too young to know shit like that, and even though it's not true, and I know he only did it to hurt me..." I sighed, my shoulders deflating.

"You still love him," Tommy put in.

I shrugged. "I don't even know anymore, to be honest with you..."

Tommy reached across the table, taking my hand. "You know I'm always here, Murph, even if you just need to talk."

I looked up at him and smiled. "Thanks. You always know just what to say."

Tommy smiled. "Well, I suggest you head home. It's Easter—why you at a bar talking to someone like we, when you should be with your family?"

I laughed. "Good question," I replied, getting to my feet, and crossing over to the bar, leaving a five-dollar bill for Kev for a tip. I made my way to the door then, and was surprised to see it open and, turning around, saw Tommy following me.

"Let me walk you out."

I smiled. "Thanks," I replied. We stepped outside into the cool, spring night, and made our way towards my car, close by the entrance. As we approached it, I was comforted by Tommy's presence, and I knew he wouldn't let any thugs attack me. When we reached my car, I turned around slightly and smiled up at him. "Thanks for the chat."

Tommy saluted me. "Anytime."

"Nice to get an opinion that's not a member of my family for a change, you know?" I asked as I fumbled for my keys in my pocket.

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

I caught his eye for a moment as I finally managed to get my keys out. "Well, I should probably head home now, and try to figure out my shit..."

"Hey, Murph?"

I turned around then, just as I was about to step off the sidewalk. "Yeah, Tommy?"

"I just wanna say that, if Nicholas's is cheating on you..." He shrugged for a moment before he stepped slightly closer. "...well, you deserve better."

I smiled. "Thanks, Tommy. That means a lot. But I don't know if he is. He heatedly denied it tonight, but even cheaters do that, so..."

Tommy hesitated for a moment before he put his hand on my shoulder. "Be careful, huh?"

I nodded up at him. "I will be, Tommy. Promise."

Tommy seemed to hesitate for a second time that night before he bent down and kissed me, and then immediately pulled away from me before I had a chance to fully react completely. "I'm sorry, that was outta line. I shouldn't have..."

"No, you shouldn't have," I reply, shaking my head. "I'm married, and I've got a family at home who needs me... Why would you do that, Tommy? I thought we agreed that nothing would ever happen between us..."

Tommy nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so crazy about you, Murph. I lost my head for a minute, but, I promise, it won't happen again."

I sighed. "See that it doesn't," I replied, stepping away from him and getting into my car. As I drove home, my mind swam with the nights' events—yet another fight with my husband, which seemed to be par for the course, and then Tommy severely overstepping things. Shaking my head, I continued my drive home and, when I arrived, promptly got out of the car, and was shocked to see someone sitting on the steps of my porch. "Ian?" I asked, locking my car up as I stepped through the gate, and cautiously stepping towards him.

"Nicholas and the kids are inside."

I nodded. "Thanks," I replied, locking the gate behind me. "But that doesn't really tell me what brings you here. Everything okay?"

He sighed, slowly getting to his feet. "Murph, I want you to understand that if you're not okay, then I'm not okay."

My shoulders sagged then, and I shook my head. "So what if I'm not okay?" I muttered. "I can figure it out."

"You don't need to figure it out alone, Murph."

I looked up at him then, crossing over to him and hugging him. "I know," I whispered, "but I need to, Ian. I love that you love me and care so much—I love you, too. But this is my marriage, and Nicholas and I need to figure out our shit on our own."

Ian sighed. "I understand," he replied then, pulling back. "Just... Don't fuck up your marriage, Murph...or your sobriety..."

I stared up at him then in shock. "I don't intend to... But why would you bring up my sobriety to me, Ian? What do you know?"

"Lip told me what happened, Murph."

I shook my head. "Fucking Lip," I whispered.

"He was looking out for you, Murph. I'm glad he told me."

"Well, I'm not!" I hissed at him. "What's going to stop him from going to Nicholas next, and Nicholas running off with my kids and shacking up with whatever bitch he's been fucking behind my back?!"

Ian looked shocked then and turned towards the house. "Hold on a minute—Nicholas is cheating on you?!" he demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Because I don't fucking know for sure," I said, shaking my head at him as he turned back to look at me. "All I know is that he's been avoiding subjects and that he's taking a lot of secret phone calls and spending most of his time in the study. I'm freaking out, Ian, that he'll figure out that I fucked up and that he'll take my kids and that Hugo and Allie will never let me see any of them again..."

"You need to ask him, Murph."

"I have," I whispered. "I have, and he refuses to tell me. He says he's doing it to protect me, but I'm convinced he's trying to protect someone else."

"You need to know for sure."

I nodded. "Damn right, I do," I said, brushing past him, "he's my husband," I went on, letting myself inside before doing my best not to slam the door behind me.

. . .

I sent Lip a text the following morning, the words, _Get your ass to the diner for lunch_ , may have gone from my phone to his. As I waited for his lunch hour to come, I paced back and forth in my office, willing for it to arrive more quickly. When it did, he came straight to my office as arranged, and when I turned to face him, he knew what he was doing there.

"Murph, before you say anything—"

"My office, my restaurant, so I talk first," I said, crossing my arms as I shoved the door shut behind him with my elbow. "Sit down."

Lip sighed, crossing to my desk chair and sitting. "Okay, Murph. Talk."

I tried my best to keep calm with him, for I knew in his own way that Lip must've thought he was trying to help—at least, Ian had confirmed Lip had seen it that way. "Did you only tell Ian that I broke my sobriety?" I asked.

Lip sighed. "Shit," he replied.

I turned around to face him. "Yes or no, Lip? Please," I said, my voice finally reaching its breaking point. "You have to tell me if you fucked up more than once and let lose to someone who could ruin everything that I fucked up..."

Lip shook his head. "If you mean Nicholas, Murphy, then no. No, I didn't tell your husband that you broke sobriety, because I think you should."

"Goddammit, Lip, we've been through this!" I cried. "We've been through the reason why I can't tell Nicholas that I fucked up!"

"Right, right. Because he'll take the kids," Lip said, getting to his feet. "But maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, Murph."

I stared at him then, my heart hammering in my ears as my rage boiled over. "Why the fuck would you say something like that to me?!"

"Well, because, maybe if you wouldn't be locking lips with other men, then Nicholas wouldn't feel justified in getting it from other women—"

Immediately, I smacked Lip across the face. "You don't know anything, Lip!"

Lip stared at me then, cupping his cheek, where a red, angry, palmprint was slightly exposed from beneath his hand. "Kev saw you and Tommy outside The Alibi last night. What'd you do, Murph? Run into his arms after yet another fight with Nicholas?"

"Here," I said, grabbing my phone and calling up my correspondence with Tommy. "Check my fucking phone if it means so much to you! We haven't communicated in weeks, and I had no way of knowing he was going to be there!"

Lip sighed. "There's a new text here, Murph, from this morning."

I nodded. "I know. I didn't reply to it. It's an apology."

"Yeah, I can see that."

I rolled my eyes. "He pulled away, but, if he hadn't, I would've pushed him off of me faster than lightning, Lip, because I'm a married woman."

Lip sighed, placing my phone back onto my desk. "I'm sorry. All of that was out of line, and I won't accuse you again."

I shook my head. "You shouldn't have in the first place," I replied, crossing my office and opening the door. "Because you should know me better than that."

"Jesus, Murph. Calm down."

I scoffed, tired of his douchebag attitude. "I really wish you weren't my brother," I replied, and slammed the door behind him.

. . .

Within a week of my argument with Lip, I quit going to AA meetings so that I could avoid him, which significantly freed up my time to spend with the kids. Nicholas didn't comment about my AA progress, which led me to believe that he truly didn't care about it anymore. I stayed off the alcohol around him, and I was sure people were reporting otherwise, so maybe he thought that there was no longer anything to worry about.

As April ended, I began considering what I would do for Iana's fourth birthday party, even though it was several weeks away. I knew we'd have to get pretty invitations and decorations, for I was positive that Iana would remember this birthday, and would want it to be a good one. As I considered various child-appropriate birthday ideas as the final days of April drifted away from us, and May dawned, I woke up early on Monday and showered and dressed, all before Nicholas or the kids woke up.

I headed downstairs and put on my tea and his coffee, and proceeded to make breakfast for everyone—pancakes, eggs, and sausage—and hoped that this form of peace offering would, somehow, get us on track to making our marriage work. A way to a man's heart was through his stomach; I remembered the old wives' tale, and knew that, perhaps, it could work. My husband came downstairs shortly thereafter, and seemed surprised that I was putting my culinary skills to work with a feast fit for a king.

"Kids are still asleep," he said, stepping into the kitchen as he proceeded to watch me. "Smells really good."

I looked up at him. "Thanks," I replied. Sighing, I crossed over to him, not knowing what else to do and placed my hands on his shoulders. "First things first—we need to figure out if we both want to fix this."

Nicholas sighed. "Of course I want to fix this."

I smiled. "So do I."

My husband hesitated for a moment before he leaned down and kissed me. "Listen, Murph, I feel like I owe you an explanation..."

I nodded, slowly moving away from him to make sure the breakfast didn't burn. "And I am all ears to whatever it is."

"I'm not cheating on you," he said slowly, deliberately, and something in his tone rang true as I looked up at him.

"I believe you," I said softly.

He smiled. "Thanks," he said. "The truth is, someone in the police department got ahold of my old records, and it looks like I may have to answer for some things."

I raised my eyebrows. "You committed those crimes as a juvenile, and your records were supposed to be expunged and sealed..."

My husband sighed. "Well, it looks like someone missed the memo, because I've got to go be interrogated this afternoon about some things from my past..."

I shook my head at him. "But... They can't do that, can they? Just find information that isn't supposed to exist in the first place, and call you out on it, especially after you've served your time for it?"

"I should know more about this aspect of the law, Murphy, but everyone I've talked to on the subject is coming up blank. I don't know what to do, other than stepping up and telling things as I remember them."

I shook my head again, my hands trembling as I crossed over to him, pulling him towards me then as my voice shook. "I can't lose you, Nicholas," I whispered. "Please... I'll do whatever I can to help you, I promise..."

Nicholas kissed my forehead. "I know you will, Murphy. Thank you." He held me for one moment more before letting me go and smiling at me. "I'll go get the kids up. Do you need my help with anything?"

I shook my head one last time. "No," I managed to get out. "No, I'm fine. You can go and get the kids up..."

Nicholas did his best to smile at me, kissing me once more before heading upstairs, as a lump rose in my throat at the prospect of losing him.

I gripped the counter for a moment before I took my phone out of my jeans pocket, fumbling with the numbers before I got the right one. "Lip," I said, my voice trembling as my oldest brother picked up the phone.

"What is it, Murphy?"

"I... I'm sorry," I said, trying not to cry. "I'm so sorry about what I said. Please, can you forgive me for it, Lip?"

"Yeah, Murph. I forgive you," he said, sounding concerned. "What's up?"

"I need a meeting," I managed to get out. "Meet me in an hour?"

"No problem," he said, and hesitated for a moment. "Murph?"

"Yeah?" I asked, gripping tightly to the counter in front of me, willing for my entire body not to shake and betray my calm.

"It's all okay," he assured me. "It's all going to be okay and work itself out..."

I shook my head, despite the fact that he couldn't see me. "That's just the thing, Lip," I replied, my voice unsteady. "I don't know if it'll all be okay and work itself out this time..."

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. With Or Without You

Chapter Twelve: With Or Without You

After a week of the interrogation sessions that Nicholas had been forced to be a part of, he finally returned home late Sunday night, looking terrible. I'd already put the kids to bed, and was up and waiting for him to return home, and, as he walked in, I immediately got to my feet and hesitated for a moment before I ran to him, yanking him into my arms, doing my best not to come undone completely in front of him. I knew I had to be strong, and allowing myself to lose control now would be ill-advised.

"Why the fuck are they doing this?" I whispered, keeping a good grip upon him, and feeling even more secure when his arms came tightly around me. "Why are they doing this to us? You served your time, and got on with your life. Why can't they?"

"They interrogated me for seven days straight, Murph," he replied, his hands running up and down my back. "They're fucking killing me with this shit..."

"Any stipulations to your release?" I asked him.

He sighed. "I can't leave town, but it's total bullshit," he replied.

"They must have something significant then," I muttered. "Fuckers..."

Nicholas pulled away from me then, trudging across the living room and into the kitchen. He dragged his hand over his face as I moved to follow him; his eyes were red-rimmed, with deep purple circles beneath them. He moved over to the freezer, getting out a bottle of vodka, cleverly hidden beneath a massive bag of ice, and unscrewed the cap effortlessly, tipping it towards his lips and chugging it for a moment. "Sorry," he said quietly, lowering it at long last, and allowing it to merely hang from his fingertips. "Just feeling really fucked up right now..."

I leaned upon the kitchen island a few feet away from him, biting on my lower lip. "I know," I said quietly, nodding at him. "But alcohol's not the way, Nicholas..."

My husband smirked, bringing the bottle back towards his lips and drinking deeply from it. "Hell of a thing for an alcoholic to say."

I sighed, my shoulders falling then as I struggled to keep my cool. "I don't want to fight with you, Nicholas. I'm tired of fighting."

"Then, why do you provoke me?"

My eyes snapped to his. "I can't help if you're negatively impacted by my own decisions," I tell him, trying my best not to yell. "Sure, I could evaluate my life better—fuck, everyone I know could do that. But I can't make myself responsible for you, too. You're a fucking man! I have to keep myself in check, and our kids. I can't have someone else to worry about, but I fucking do, because I'm afraid you're going to fucking leave me..."

"Why would I leave you, Murphy?" Nicholas asked, staring into the bottle of vodka. "I can't ever see myself doing that, no matter how fucked this all is..."

I scoffed. "Get a clue, Nicholas."

His eyes locked onto mine then. "What?" he asked. "What did you do?"

"Which part?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

My husband looked shocked. "There's more than one part?! Jesus, Murphy. What could you have done this time?!"

"One thing I did, one thing I didn't do," I replied, "but neither thing did I have control over. I lost control of the first situation, and in the second..." I shrugged. "I got caught off-guard, but I may have encouraged it..."

"What did you do?" he asked me, his voice deathly quiet.

"I went to The Alibi after work," I replied, my voice trembling then. "I'd had a really stressful day and we were fighting all the time, and I just wanted to see Kev and V and to clear my head a little bit..."

Nicholas stiffened. "What happened?"

"Fucking Frank happened," I whispered. "Kev, V, and I got to talking about Monica, and it got me all depressed, because I'm more like her than I ever realized. And then Frank showed up and told me to loosen up, and he dumped whiskey down my throat," I said, my voice trembling. "I just lost control..."

"That fucker did what?!" Nicholas demanded.

I shrugged. "I could've walked out right then," I said quietly. "Called Lip, gone to a meeting, and then come home and begged forgiveness. But, I didn't..."

"What'd you do?"

I felt my body shaking then, unknowing what to expect. "I kept slinging back the drinks," I replied, my voice trembling. "Like there was no tomorrow, and all that. Then, I went to the ladies' room and was so... I couldn't walk, and I could hardly stand. I called Lip, drunk-dialing him, before I passed out..."

"Murphy..."

"...woke up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning," I said, my voice quiet. "That was the day I said I fell asleep at work and didn't come home. I just... I felt like I wasn't me anymore and I needed to get away from myself for a period. Lip lectured me, and then promised to keep this from you, because I begged him to do it, but he told Ian..."

"Hold on," Nicholas interrupted. "Why would you want to keep this from me?"

"Because I didn't want you to fucking leave and take the kids!" I cried out, wanting more than anything to circle the island and go to him, but I found I was rooted to the spot. "I can't lose any of you, Nicholas. I can't..."

He sighed, running his index finger up and down the bottle of vodka. "And the other thing that you kept from me?"

I gritted my teeth, knowing full well that Nicholas had kept the biggest secret of all from me—his potentially returning to prison—and had allowed me to believe that he was cheating on me for weeks before coming clean, the morning he was due to go in for questioning... "Tommy kissed me," I said, knowing I had to get this off my chest.

Nicholas slowly raised his eyes to mine. "What?"

It shook me that he seemed so calm about this—the unthinkable, really, for I knew full well I hadn't done anything of the kind with anyone since I'd been with Josh, although, let's be real, Josh was incomparable to Nicholas... "That's all you've got to say?"

He shrugged, taking another drink of vodka. "What do you want me to say?"

"Goddammit, Nicholas, stop it!" I cried out then, crossing over to him and yanking the glass bottle out of his hand, so much so that his eyes flashed, and I felt a sense of danger between us as I held the bottle away from him. "Why are you doing this?!"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters!" I shouted, uncomprehending. "For fuck's sake, you're my husband! Why the fuck wouldn't it matter?!"

"Do you love me?"

I felt the gasp threatening to escape my throat then. "What?"

"Do you love me?" he asked again.

I lowered my eyes. "Don't do this," I said quietly.

"Dammit, Murphy," he said, grabbing ahold of my shoulders then with so much force that my neck snapped back, forcing me to look up at him. "Do you love me?"

I felt myself trembling in his grasp. "Nicholas..."

"It's a simple 'yes' or 'no' question, Murph."

I struggled to break away from him, not wanting to have the inability of an escape route. I detested being confined—it truly frightened me, and reminded me of the days when Dr. Normal would... "Stop!" I cried out then, pulling at full force away from him, the bottle flying from my hands, which I automatically dove for, before it shattered, a piece of glass flying upwards and slicing my palm. "Fuck!" I screamed, the blood dripping down my fingertips and splashing onto the floor, mingling with the vodka.

Nicholas stared down at me in shock. "Murph..."

"Don't," I said, sucking in air through my teeth as the air hit the slice on my palm. It was a clean slice, and no glass was in it, and although I would benefit from stitches, I didn't want to drive to the hospital so late. I grabbed a dishtowel and held it there, and moved away from his evading hands as I stumbled backwards. "I'm heading out," I said, not wanting to hear him speak again as I stepped through the living room and outside into the lukewarm May evening, and across the street, where the door opened as soon as I passed through the gate.

"Murph?" Ian asked, his tone stricken with concern. "Jesus Christ, is that blood?!"

I nodded. "Yeah," I replied.

"What the fuck happened?!" he demanded, dashing down the stairs as I stepped forward, and placed an arm around my shoulders, before leading me into the house.

"Nicholas is back."

"Did he do this?!" Ian's voice was somewhere between devastation and rage as he kicked the door shut behind him, and led me through the living room, where Liam was still up watching something on T.V. "Hey, you," Ian said to him, "bed. Ten minutes."

"Whatever," Liam replied as Ian and I headed into the kitchen.

Ian tentatively drew back the dish towel, which I had crushed in my hand, and I hissed as the open air hit the slash again. "Shit, sorry," Ian said, going under the sink for the first-aid kit, and retrieving sanitary wipes, cleaning my wound quickly and efficiently. "So, are you going to tell me if Nicholas did this or not?"

I sighed. "He didn't do this."

"Okay," Ian replied, not wholly convinced that I was telling the truth as he made a grab for some cotton and gauze, which he used to tie up my hand to make a war-time bandage. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

I rolled my shoulders. "The interrogators just released him."

"He's been gone a week," Ian put in quietly. "How's he holding up?"

"I told him about breaking sobriety, and about Tommy kissing me, and he turned it around and demanded to know if I loved him or not..."

Ian locked eyes with mine. "What'd you say?"

I shook my head. "I couldn't answer him."

"Why?"

I shook my head again. "I don't know."

"And how did your hand get like this?"

"Vodka bottle," I said quietly.

"Who was drinking?"

"He was."

"Did you take the bottle away from him?" he asked.

I sighed. "Yeah. But then he grabbed me and wanted to know if I loved him, and then I dropped the bottle, and when I went to grab it, a piece of glass got into my palm... Then, I left and came over here."

"Murph?"

I looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell him if you loved him?"

I bit my lip. "Because I don't know what to feel anymore," I admitted.

. . .

"Well, I'm glad everyone came out to celebrate Iana's big day," Nicholas said, nearly two weeks later after the celebrations had died down for Iana's fourth birthday.

I sighed, doing my best to wash the dishes from the food we'd served; I'd managed to get a waterproof bandage in the last couple of weeks, so certain tasks were easier, although it still hurt to put pressure on the wound. "Yeah, well, I guess when you're four-years-old, you don't have to constantly worry about the ways of the world, and shit hitting the fan," I replied, trying to keep my voice nonchalant as I got some more soap onto the plate I was washing.

Nicholas shifted then and, from the corner of my eye, I saw him lower the trash bag he'd been carrying towards the kitchen door onto a chair of the dining room table. "What's that supposed to mean, Murphy?"

I sighed, rolling my shoulders then as I continued washing the plate—my last piece of dishware—and placed it into the drying rack. I pulled off my gloves then, tossing them beneath the sink and leaning up on the counter. "Shit," I whispered, realizing that I was putting pressure upon my hand. "Nothing," I said.

Nicholas sighed. "You're unbelievable," he said, crossing behind me towards the kitchen door and letting himself out. He left the door open, and I could hear him opening up the trash in the backyard, and slamming it shut again once he'd shoved the bag in there. As he came inside, I moved away from the sink, watching him as he washed his hands, before drying them. Only then did he turn around and stare at me. "What are you hiding now?"

"Other than the fact that I'm scared shitless for you, not much," I replied, crossing my arms. "I don't think you understand how fucked this all is, Nicholas. That, or you just don't want to. I mean, clearly, someone didn't expunge your records, or they managed to obtain a copy of them while you were still a minor. I don't understand how you can be so calm about this, when you have a family who needs you with them..."

Nicholas stared at me for a moment, clearly torn, but it was replaced by a hardened looked just a moment later. "You barely spoke to my parents today," he said, and I immediately looked away from him. "Why is that? They were confused as hell, considering that your relationship with them used to be great..."

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

"Murph...please..."

"Don't you fucking 'please' me!" I cried out then, my voice hinging on the unbreakable point as I turned to look at him. "This is all fucked, Nicholas! It's fucked!"

"This being?"

"That our marriage is built solely on lies! We seem to get off on lying to each other, and that's no way to live! I know you know that..."

"Murph..."

"A foundation for a good marriage is honesty, loyalty, compassion, understanding... We don't seem to have any of that, Nicholas, and it scares the shit out of me..."

Nicholas's eyebrows knit together then. "And what does all that have to do with you avoiding my parents all day, Murph?"

I sighed, dragging my hands through my hair, not knowing how to tell him. "Look, I'm just going to say it, but I can't have you freaking out on me..."

"What are you talking about?"

I bit my lip, leaning back against the dining room table and trying to count to ten in my head to be as calm as possible. "When it was the twins' birthday, I got that call from Fiona," I said quietly to him. "I left the party and took the call in the study, and a file fell from the file area and I found out what it was, something that you've been hiding from me, and it got me so fucking pissed that I harbored resentment against your father for it..."

"Murph?"

I raised my eyes to his then, unsure of why he was acting so innocent about it. "I found the paperwork of the private investigator that your father had follow me," I replied, my voice calm as I mentioned another note of mutual deception. "I couldn't understand why he felt the need to just interfere in our marriage like that, unless you asked him to do it, so that I wouldn't get suspicious about our bank account and money potentially going missing..."

"I didn't ask him to do that, Murph," Nicholas replied, and something in his tone of voice rang true for me.

I blinked. "You didn't ask him?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No. I didn't. Sure, I mean, I talked to them about our problems and how I was affected by them, but never in a million years would I ask either of them to have you followed. I don't appreciate it, Murph, really."

I rolled my shoulders then, trying to keep a handle on my calm. "So, did you end up reading the report from the investigator?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I read the report."

"I see, so you had all this information as it came, and were able to follow my daily activities for weeks undetected..."

"Yeah. The guy saw you with Tommy a few times, and you never mentioned seeing him to me, likely because of my feelings about him, and was able to pick up the pieces of conversation you were having, and about how you'd keep it professional..."

"So, how long did the guy follow me for?" I asked. "I mean, was the report I found the only report there was?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No, there were a couple of reports. Dad kept having you followed until the night Tommy kissed you."

I blinked. "So, when I told you about it, you already knew, and that's why you didn't fly off the handle when I told you?"

Nicholas nodded. "Yeah."

I dragged my uninjured hand over my face, feeling sick. "God, I can't believe you'd hide all this from me, Nicholas..."

"Can't you see why I did?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head as I turned to look at him. "No, I can't. I honestly can't believe that you wouldn't defend me to your parents like your life depended on it, because I'm your fucking wife, and your first loyalty should be to me and the kids. If Tommy hadn't walked off after he kissed me, or if he hadn't broken the kiss after a handful of seconds, I would've thrown him off me and landed him on his ass, because you're my husband, and, despite all the hell you've put me through, my first loyalty is to you and the kids. Why you feel the need to protect your parents from me is beyond me, and I can't..."

"Can't what?"

I sighed, feeling at a loss. "I can't forgive you," I said quietly, shaking my head at him. "Not for this. I'm sorry, Nicholas," I said, moving to leave the kitchen, "but I can't..."

"So, what does this mean?" Nicholas asked, following me, and yet made no move to touch me as I made my way over to the stairs.

I shrugged. "I don't know what this means, Nicholas," I replied, "but I can tell you that you'll be sleeping in the guest bedroom for the foreseeable future."

"What do we tell the kids?" he asked as I moved to climb the stairs.

"The truth," I replied, getting to the first landing before turning around to face him, "that we both fucked up."

. . .

I have just left the diner for the day to pick up the kids on Wednesday, the final day of May, when I get a phone call from a strange number. Something about the number seems familiar to me, and yet I cannot place it as I pull over to the side of the road to analyze it. Something within me tells me to pick it up and I do, right before the call goes to voicemail.

"Murphy Gallagher-Blomqvist," I said into the phone.

"Murph! Thank god!"

"Nicholas?" I asked, confused at how relieved he sounded for me to be taking the call, as well as the fact that the number hadn't come from his cell or office number. "What's going on? Where are you calling me from?"

"The police department," he replied. "They just picked me up. They let me call you before they can process me."

I knew that, had I been driving, I would've surely slammed into something, or swerved on the road in my shock. "Process you?! What are you—?!"

"Look, I don't have a lot of time to explain," he replied. "They did a quickie pleading this morning and I've been deemed a flight risk, despite my ties to the community via you, the kids, and my work, and I've been held without bail until the trial begins."

"Trial?!" I cried out. "Wait, Nicholas—"

"I don't know when or if I'll be out, but they let me just have a few moments to talk to you, Murph. I'm sorry," he said, and I could hear his voice catching. "I'm sorry about everything and I'm hopeful that this mess'll stop soon..."

"Nicholas, don't—"

"I'll be okay, Murph, I promise," he said, trying to keep calm. "I might get another phone call later, but it'll be a collect call..."

"I don't give a shit about the money—any of it!" I cry out, my voice trembling. "I'm going to find a way to get you out—"

"Murph, they're telling me to cut the call," he said, regret filling his tone. "Like I said, I'll try and call you soon."

"Nicholas—"

"I've gotta go," he said, and I heard him lowering the phone."

"I—" I started to say, but was greeted by the dial tone.

I rushed to pick up Iana and the boys, already minutes behind schedule, but was relieved when they were all with me in one piece. As soon as we got home, I found I was at a loss for what to do, and naturally all of them wanted to know when their father would be home. I try to keep on smiling, letting him know that he will be gone for a few days but that none of them had anything to worry about. I got their dinner ready at the right time, and gave them a bath and put them to bed, spending the next hour picking up the living room and cleaning up the kitchen. Such tasks kept my mind off things, and all I wanted to do was wake up from this terrible nightmare that had become my life.

A knock at the door around ten o'clock caught me off-guard, and I immediately went to see who it was, and I was shocked to see Tommy on my porch. I unlocked the door, my eyebrows raised at the notion of seeing him, and stood there for a moment. "And what brings you to my humble abode?" I asked him.

He sighed. "Can I come in?"

I blinked. "Why?"

"I heard about Nicholas," he said, his voice sincere. "I'm really sorry."

I sighed, moving out of the way so that he could pass me and walk into the living room. "Well, you're kind of late to the party," I said, shutting the door and following him. "Make yourself at home, I guess," I said, gesturing to the couch.

"Thanks," Tommy replied, sitting down, straightening his neck tie. "I didn't know what else to do, other than to come by and make sure you're okay."

I shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I crossed my arms. "Jesus, Tommy. No, I'm not okay. My husband's been arrested on some old charges that were supposed to be expunged from his record a long time ago, plus you're here, and the last time we were together, you kissed me."

Tommy sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about last time, Murphy. It was out of line, I understand that. I had had a few too many, and once Kev saw what I'd done, he pretty much threatened to beat the life out of me."

I blinked. "Wait. Kev did what?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah. Said you were like his sister and the only guy who should be acting that way towards you is Nicholas."

"Well, I mean, yeah," I replied, scoffing a little. "He _is_ my husband."

"And...you're happy with him?"

I sighed. "That's really none of your concern, Tommy."

"Murph, I consider you a friend. I'm just looking out for you."

I sighed. "Well, that doesn't objectively matter, Tommy. I appreciate the concern, really, but it's nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"And why not?" Tommy demanded then, more out of compassion than anger. "Why can't you just admit it, Murphy?"

I shook my head. "Admit what?"

Tommy sighed. "Forget it," he said, getting to his feet and walking to the door.

Immediately, I get to my feet and go after him. "Tommy, I'm sorry," I said, placing my hand on his arm, which causes him to turn around. "But I don't know what you mean."

Tommy shook his head. "No, you wouldn't, would you?" he asked, looking me up and down. "I know what, too."

"What?"

"You're too good a person, Murph," he said, shaking his head then before he yanks me towards him and kisses me, and, in one moment, I saw exactly what he was talking about, in that I was not as caught off-guard this time and, combined with everything that had been happening, I couldn't help it, and, for a moment, I just let him—

"Tommy," I said, pulling away from him. "I'm sorry. But we can't."

Tommy nodded. "I know."

"But, you're right, about something, at least," I said, my voice trembling slightly as I finally allowed myself to admit it.

"What?" he asked.

"I think I do have feelings for you, on some level," I said quietly. "But I'm in love with my husband and we can't cross the line ever again. You know we can't."

Tommy sighed, his shoulders deflating. "I know that," he replied, crossing over to the front door and opening it. "Look, I'm sorry, Murphy. It won't happen again," he says, his voice assuring as he shuts the door behind him.

. . .

The words that Ian had been driving home for the last several months pounded in my brain then as I switched off the light in Iana's bedroom. _Don_ ' _t fuck up your marriage_. _Do not fuck up your marriage_. I shut my daughter's bedroom door and headed downstairs; Nicholas had been holed up in the study for hours, speaking to Hugo on the landline he'd insisted that we buy, and I tried to distract myself by picking up the cluttered living room.

He'd insisted that there was a personal vendetta against him; of course, he'd waited to say this when I was able to visit him, face-to-face. Mason Crowe had pulled a few strings for that to happen, and we'd been permitted time alone. My status changed from wife to wife to attorney in a few short days, after Nicholas was finally released on bail, and we were finally permitted to have conversations without prying eyes and ears. However, things were different between us, I felt that now, and I felt as if I was working for him than just working with him, as we'd promised to do when we got married.

I pulled the curtains shut, not wanting to admire the sunset, I felt my hands shaking then as I bent to pick up some toys, placing them in the chest on the opposite side of the room. Next came the train tracks, belonging to the boys, which I painstakingly took apart and returned to their box, and placed them on top of the toy chest. Finally, I turned to the scattered books, placing them carefully onto the shelf, straightening them out, as I vaguely heard Nicholas wrapping up his phone call with Hugo.

I heard my husband stepping out of the study then, and then I felt him standing behind me as I continued to straighten out the books. I was very close to alphabetizing them, or at least putting them in order of size. Anything to prolong the inevitable; the inevitable that I knew full well was coming, and couldn't be stopped, not anymore.

"Murph?"

I shut my eyes then, the hot tears threatening to escape my eyes at the tone of his voice. So close to giving up, yet not wanting to. "Yeah?" I asked, thankful that it was mind over matter, not allowing my voice to break. "What's on your mind?"

"We need to talk."

I sighed, giving a stiff nod to the bookshelf as I managed, somehow, to get to my feet, and turned around to face my husband, wrapping my arms around myself in a protective gesture that I had become accustomed to. "Sure," I said quietly.

"I know you know I was talking to my dad in there..."

I gave another nod. "Yeah, I know."

"He gave me a couple of suggestions," he said quietly, not even bothering to take a step forward—either because of our emotional distance from one another, or because of my closing myself off from him since my own arrest, nearly a year before.

"Tell me," I said quietly.

"He said that I could get out in front of this," he replied. "Just accept a plea bargain and admit to everything, and maybe the prison term wouldn't be so bad if I cooperated."

"And the other suggestions?" I whispered, finding that I couldn't even begin to fathom the thought of my husband in prison.

"There's the option of gathering support for my cause," he replied. "Figuring out who tampered with my records, which were supposed to be sealed and wiped, and weren't. I served my time in juvi when I was a teenager for these crimes, so, naturally, double jeopardy would come into play, and if I got enough people on my side, this could all just go away."

"Is that all Hugo came up with?" I asked him.

"No, there was a third option..."

"Yeah?" I asked, waiting for my husband to look at me, and when he didn't, I decided it would be best to push him a little. "What was it?"

My husband chose then to lock eyes with mine. "I could run."

I found that my expression quickly morphed into a horrified one. "You can't be serious right now, Nicholas!" I cried.

He shrugged. "Why not? The Chicago area is obviously against me, now that they know what stupid decisions I made in my youth. Who's to say that they wouldn't target me, or you, or the kids if I didn't leave?"

"So, that's it?" I said, hating myself for weakening then at the thought of losing him—after all these months, I was standing to lose the only person I'd ever truly, truly loved, and the thought was more heartbreaking than I could've imagined. "What about the kids, Nicholas?" I demanded then, looking towards the stairs. "Iana, Clayton, and Fionn need their father. What am I supposed to tell them? That you just picked up and left to save your own sorry ass?"

Nicholas sighed then, leaning up against the doorframe of the living room. "Never once in there did you mention yourself, Murph..."

"Fine," I whispered, the onset of tears not stopping—not for a moment—as I finally allowed myself to be vulnerable in front of him. "What about me, Nicholas? I'm your wife. Why would you just turn your back on me?"

"Murphy, you've been seeing Tommy..."

"You and I are not about to have this conversation again!" I said, hating myself for yelling at him, unknowing when he would be potentially taken away from me, maybe for a long time. "I told you about the times that he kissed me, but the first was only after he had a few too many, and the second was when he didn't prepare me for..." I sighed; I couldn't tell him what I'd said to Tommy, even now, and pushed my thoughts away from that night. "I told you I pushed him away every time—well, each time that Kev didn't and threatened to kill him. You know about everything, Nicholas, everything—you're my husband. I would never cheat on you by sleeping with someone else..."

"And emotionally?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Come on, Murph," he said, shaking his head. "You know as well as I do that you fight harder than anyone I've ever met to keep your emotions in check, but it doesn't always work—especially not in front of Tommy..."

I looked away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Murph, you didn't sleep with Tommy, fine. You pushed him away whenever he kissed you, fine. But don't stand there and tell me that you don't have feelings for him, on some level, and that you, in fact, told him that you liked it when he flirted with you."

I sighed, hating this feeling of being backed up into a corner, but knew that, on some level, I had been wrong, especially that since he had a private investigator's report to back up this information, which I knew I'd never live down or get over. "You're right," I whispered, the words escaping my lips. "You're right. I cheated on you on an emotional level."

"I know."

"So, that's it, then?" I whispered. "You're just going to run away?"

"No," Nicholas said, crossing the room towards me then, and yanking my arms down, and I felt drawn to him then as I threw them around him, and sobbed into his shoulder. "If I'm going, I'm not about to leave without you and the kids, Murph. You're my life—all of you are."

I pulled back and away from him then. "Nicholas, you know as well as I do that the kids and I have built a life here in South Side. What do you expect? Give us a new identity like some crazy and convoluted Lifetime movie?"

Nicholas shrugged. "My father knows some powerful people, Murph."

I lowered my eyes then and shook my head. "I can't..."

"Murph..."

"No, I can't do this, run again. I promised Ian when I ran to Florida that I would never run away from the family again..."

"Murph, I'm your husband," Nicholas replied.

I nodded. "I know, but I can't.." I whispered then, my voice breaking in two, but the closeness I felt to him then was too overwhelming to pass up, and I stood on my toes then, pressing his lips to mine.

My husband didn't need telling twice to know what I wanted, and immediately grabbed the base of my T-shirt and yanked it over my head. We then started to work on our bottoms—his jeans and my shorts—quickly extracting them off one another. He then yanked me down onto the floor, stripping me of my underwear and I him of his boxers, and there we lay, naked as babes, as he stared down at me then.

"Murph..."

"Don't," I said, covering my lips with his.

I remembered the last time we had made love—it had been so long ago now, that I could hardly believe it. In the beginning, we couldn't take our hands off each other. And then I got pregnant with the boys, and then came Iana's adoption, my arrest and friendship with Tommy, and my husband's own legal troubles. I didn't think that, after all this time, he would even want to touch me again, but boy, was I wrong.

Our bodies mingled for a moment—almost as if reacquainting themselves with one another—but it was a short-lived reintroduction. We seemed to reaffirm the passion almost immediately, and our bodies crashed together, the missing piece of the puzzle of life. I gripped onto him tightly, as if I was lost at sea, and he was my life preserver, keeping me alive, as he had done from the moment we'd realized there was something more between us. Nicholas was my life, and I knew I was going to lose him, but I had to let him know, before he was lost to me, maybe forever, how much he truly meant to me...

When it had ended, Nicholas cupped my face for a moment, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb, as he stared down at me. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," I replied.

I waited until he was asleep, and spent the next several hours staring at the ceiling, and it was only then that I allowed myself to come undone. I untangled myself from Nicholas then, and gathered my clothes into my arms, walking up the stairs, knowing that nothing could have disturbed him. I went into our bedroom then and shut the door, heading into the bathroom and turning on the shower to the coldest temperature imaginable as I stepped inside. With the hum of the fan and the stream of water, nobody could hear me as I sobbed, tired of holding it together for anyone's sake.

Once I got out of the shower, I slipped on another tank top and a pair of shorts, and perched on the edge of my bed, watching my bedside clock from the corner of my eye, as the hours ticked slowly by. When six o'clock in the morning arrived, I got to my feet and crossed over to the closet, getting down my husband's duffel bag. I also went into our safe, and layered the bottom of the duffel with his passport and some of our emergency cash. Next, I went over to his dresser and loaded it with his entire casual wardrobe—he had cash and connections if he needed to buy something more fashionable. I went downstairs then, carrying the duffel, and looked down at my husband from the first landing.

In sleep, he never looked more peaceful; he appeared younger than his thirty-two years, and his brow was not furrowed with worry, as it had been constantly for the past year. He even smiled in his sleep, and I hoped that, for once, he was not having a frightening nightmare. His lashes swept his cheeks, and my heart ached with love for him, and, even though it would break my heart, I knew what I was proposing was right for everyone.

I finished walking down the stairs, and dropped the duffel beside him, and watched as my husband's eyes sprang open. "Get up and get dressed."

Nicholas looked surprised then and lowered his eyes to the duffel. "What's this?" he asked, and smacked the back of his hand against it.

"It's your shit," I replied. "I packed it for you."

Nicholas got to his feet then and stepped into his boxers. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying get out."

My husband looked shocked. "Murph, last night..."

"I was telling you goodbye," I replied, willing for my voice not to shake. "I had to tell you goodbye properly. I'm your wife."

"Are you telling me you want me to face this legal battle alone?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Don't be stupid," I replied, and yanked him towards me then—I needed to feel him in my arms, just one more time. "I'm telling you to fucking run," I whispered into his ear, unknowing if we were being watched. "I loaded it down with some of our emergency cash, and your passport. I want you to take it, and your clothes, and fucking run. I want you to get as far away from here as possible."

"And you?" Nicholas asked, looking me up and down then as he pulled back. "What will you do, Murphy?"

"I'll raise the kids," I replied. "And I'll work as hard as I can to figure out who is framing you, because you're my husband. I owe it to you."

He nodded. "Okay. I trust you."

I smiled, standing on my toes then and kissing him. "I need a favor."

"What?"

I sighed. "We need to make it look like you left for a reason..."

He looked confused. "What?!"

"When the cops come to question me about where you are, I'll say we had a fight about Tommy, and that you were convinced that I cheated on you."

He shrugged, pulling on his T-shirt. "Not so far-fetched..."

"Yeah, but we need to make it convincing..."

My husband cocked his head to one side. "How should we do that?"

I sighed, knowing that I shouldn't be asking this of him, but I didn't see any other way for him to get out of here convincingly. "I need you to hit me."

He looked horrified. "Hit you?!"

"Hit me," I confirmed.

Immediately, Nicholas shook his head. "I'd never hit you, Murphy."

Knowing I had to sell it convincingly, I also knew that I had to make it convincing for him. "I did cheat on you, Nicholas," I replied then, my voice deadly serious. "When Tommy kissed me, I fucking liked it. And when you were locked up, he came to see me. I was so distraught that I let him fuck me, in our bed, while the kids were asleep. We fucked hard for hours—he was better than you, too, and his dick was bigger," I said, taunting him now, and seeing that his fingers curled into a fist. "We fucked for hours, Nicholas, and he took me places that I'll never get with you and your limp dick. He's much stronger than you are, so he lasted longer, too—we both did, because I didn't let him use a condom on me!"

My husband lifted his fist then, which slammed into my face without mercy, and I immediately fell to the ground then, knowing that I had done a good job. "Bitch! I'll fucking kill him!" he raged down at me.

I felt the shaking sobs ebb from my throat then—it was the right thing to do and the wrong thing to do, all wrapped up carefully in a little package. "Now you can run, because we made it convincing for them," I whispered.

"What?!" Nicholas demanded.

I raised my face to his, and tried to see out of my right eye, but found that I couldn't, as it was quickly swelling shut. "I haven't slept with anyone since Josh since we got together," I whispered to him then, and my husband looked horrified at what he had done. "We had to make it convincing, Nicholas, and now it will be. Now, you can run, and it'll look like a domestic dispute, so they won't think you've gone far, and now you can run..."

Nicholas immediately picked me up then, holding me to him. "Murph, why would you do something like that?"

"I had to," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I had to, Nicholas. You saved me. You saved my life a long time ago, and I can never thank you enough for it. Maybe by saving your life from injustice, you can have a shot of a better life."

He pulled back and looked down at me then, gently kissing my eyelid. "I'll try and find some payphones to call you from, Murphy..."

"Be careful," I replied. "Once Ian figures out what happened—and believe me, he'll figure it out—you'll be a marked man."

"Will you tell him the truth?"

I shrugged. "I don't know yet. I don't know who to trust."

My husband leaned down and kissed me then. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Nicholas," I replied, tilting my head back to kiss him again. "But now I need you to run and get the hell away from here."

Nicholas sighed, gently lifting me to my feet then and turning around to fetch his duffel. "I'll need you to destroy my cell phone..."

I nodded. "I think I can do that..."

My husband tried to smile at me. "It'll be okay..."

I did my best to smile back at him. "I know," I said quietly. I walked him to the door then as he put the duffel over his shoulder, and we peered outside for a moment before I gently shoved him out. "I would kiss you goodbye if I could..."

He smiled fleetingly then. "Play it up, Murphy. I can take it."

"You, too," I whispered back, as I felt the tears returning. "Nicholas, I didn't mean it! Please, come back!" I wailed, scurrying to the edge of the porch as he trooped through the yard, to appear to the outside world that I meant nothing to him. "I'm sorry!"

"Shut the fuck up, Murphy!" he raged in a convincing manner back at me. "I'm done! We're done! This marriage and this family is done! Get over yourself you cheap slut!"

I watched then as he threw the duffel that I'd packed for him in the back of his car, and then got into the driver's seat without looking back. I stood on the porch then as he drove away, and covered my mouth with my hands, the wails echoing through them. I fell to my knees then, not sure where the acting began and the real life ended, and knew that, as my husband ran from the law, a part of me was running with him.

. . .

"And you're sure you don't mind watching to boys?" I asked Ian, for what must've been the umpteenth time.

"I've got this, Murph. Nothing to worry about," Ian assured me. "What exactly are you going to do with Iana?"

"Get away for a few days, nothing major," I replied as I did my best to check over our passports and our luggage, already packed for the following morning. "I'll drop the boys off tomorrow morning, before Iana and I go to the airport, all right?"

"No problem," Ian replied. "See you then."

"Night, then," I replied, hanging up the phone and heading into the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror then, relieved that my eye had healed up nicely, before removing my tank top and shorts, the bandage on my chest, just between my breasts, was ready to come off. Carefully, I pulled it back, wincing a little as it attempted to hold onto my skin, the curled letters beneath it reading, _Nicholas Blomqvist_. I smirked at myself, knowing that I likely couldn't wear low-cut tops anymore, and found the entire thing amusing as I moved to take a shower before the trip tomorrow.

Once I was out, I got out another tank top and shorts to wear to bed, and vaguely heard a knock at the front door. Heading downstairs, I immediately checked to see who it was before I moved to answer it, and was shocked to see Tommy standing there. "Tommy?" I asked, looking him over in confusion. "You okay?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry. About Nicholas taking off like that..."

I shrugged. "Hey, it is what it is. It can't be helped."

He smiled. "Look, I think it's great you and Iana are getting away for a few days. Maybe it'll clear your head a little."

I nodded. "That's the plan, at least."

Tommy hesitated for a moment. "Murph, if you ever need anything..."

I nodded. "Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate that."

"Do you need anything?" he wants to know.

I sighed, leaning up against the door frame. "Don't know about need..."

"Want anything?"

I bit my lip then, unknowing of what I wanted or needed anymore, before I turned and looked up at him, and truly saw him, almost as if for the first time. "I don't know," I replied, "if I want you to stay, but I also don't know if I want you to go."

Tommy nodded. "I'll take my chances, then," he replied, kissing me on the cheek before he left me standing there.

The following morning, I dropped off the boys as scheduled, before Iana and I drove onto the highway, and I looked in the back seat, seeing that she was already asleep. I smiled to myself, keying in information to the GPS system, not knowing if I was doing the right thing or not, but did know that it needed to be done. Once I'd finished, I continued driving on the highway, and waited for the GPS to read back the information to me.

"Driving on I-57 South, to Mexico. Approximate driving time, twenty-nine hours," the GPS informed me efficiently.

I smiled to myself then, turning and looking in the back seat momentarily at Iana again. It was with pride that I looked back at her, my beautiful daughter, who looked so much like her father as she slept. And now, in just a little over a day, she would meet him for the first time. I knew I would have to pull off eventually, divvying up the trip, to get us somewhere to sleep comfortably for the night, and something decent to eat. But I also knew that we didn't have all the time in the world, for she couldn't miss much of her life back home, and I had to get back to the diner at some point.

Iana was a wonderful traveling companion, and didn't complain at all that day or the next, although her inquisitiveness was truly off the charts. She'd only ever been to Florida before, so the notion that we were going to another country was truly amazing for her. Finally, when we reached the border the following day, our passports at the ready, I turned to look at her, knowing we had to be covert in this operation.

"Remember what Mama told you?" I asked.

Iana nodded. "Yeah, Mama. Not to tell who we're going to see."

I smiled. "That's right, sweetheart."

"Who are we going to see, Mama?"

I reached back and squeezed her hand. "That's a surprise, my love," I told her.

Once we were through the checkpoint, I continued driving along the highway, unknowing as to what I would find. My plan was to go to the roadside tequila bar—my fingers crossed that it was still there—and ask for information on Mickey's whereabouts. Something told me that someone would know where he was, and if it involved a money transaction, I found I didn't care. I just needed to see him, and I needed to see him now.

Finally, when we arrived, I pulled off the highway and into the parking lot and found a space with ease, and got out of my car. Immediately, I opened the back door and unstrapped Iana from her car seat, holding her tightly in my arms for a moment as I shut and locked my car. Putting my keys into my pocket, I first decided to look around the back, where Mickey had been last time, indulging in a cigarette break before going to drink again. A trial of smoke and the familiar scent of cigarettes wafted into my nose, and then I saw the familiar body shape that was Mickey Milkovich, and my heart swelled with relief.

"Mickey," I said, carefully, watching as Mickey seemed to stiffen automatically, before he turned around and looked shocked to see me. "Been a long time," I went on, as he looked from me, to Iana, and back again. "Sorry about that."

Mickey looked shocked then as he looked down at his hand and immediately moved to put out his cigarette. "Hey, Murphy."

"Hey, there," I said softly, as Iana looked from me to Mickey and back again, a spark of recognition in her eyes.

"Who's this, Mama?" Iana whispered to me.

Mickey looked shocked. "She's your kid?"

"This is my daughter," I replied. "Sweetheart, this is Mama's good friend, Mickey. Why don't you introduce yourself, okay?"

"Hi, Mickey," Iana said, and waved to him, and Mickey looked shocked at her interaction with him as she immediately moved to get out of my arms, and, reluctantly, I let her. "Nice to meet you," Iana went on, walking up to him and putting out her hand.

Mickey did his best to smile. "And what's your name?"

"Iana Phillipa Gallagher-Blomqvist," she replied, and Mickey's eyes looked pained for half a moment before looking up at me.

"Blomqvist?"

"My husband's name," I replied.

"My daddy adopted me," Iana said, and I immediately bit my lip, unknowing how Mickey would take this information.

Mickey lowered his eyes back down to Iana. "Adopted you? Why?"

"Because my real daddy is far away," Iana replied. "Mama says that maybe I'll meet him someday, but I don't know where he is..."

Mickey was slowly but surely putting two and two together, and it wasn't long before he asked his next question. "How old are you, Iana?"

"I turned four a month ago," she replied. "My birthday is May twentieth."

"Four?" Mickey whispered, dragging a hand across his mouth then before his gaze slowly rose upwards and found me again. "Murph?"

"Yeah?" I asked him.

"Is... Is Iana... M-I-N-E?" he asked me then, knowing that he couldn't exactly as Iana to give the two of us a moment alone.

I sighed. "Yeah, Mickey," I said, knowing that the truth would've had to come out at some point today, considering we'd come all the way down here. "She is."

Iana looked from me to Mickey again, before she turned around. "Mama?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" I said, immediately turning to look at her.

"Why does Mickey have black hair like me?"

I sighed, turning to look at Mickey. "Do you want to...?"

Mickey thought it over for a moment before he nodded. "Sure," he replied, reaching out and gently touching Iana's arm, waiting for her to turn and look at him. "Iana, I'm your father," he said quietly to her, and her eyes widened.

"What?"

"Me and your mama made you a few years back, before she was married to your daddy," he explained, obviously treading carefully.

"You live far away from us..."

Mickey nodded. "I know I do, Iana. And I'm sorry. But my life is complicated..."

Iana's brow puckered. "Do you miss me?"

"Yeah, of course I miss you," Mickey said, smiling at her for the first time. "I'm sure you're a great kid, Iana. Really."

Iana hesitated for a moment before putting her arms up and Mickey, albeit hesitantly, picked her up and held her. "Nice to meet you, Mickey," she said softly.

"What's been going on with you?" Mickey asked a short time later, when Iana had fallen asleep in her car seat again, and we stood by the open back door of my car.

I sighed. "A shit ton of stuff," I replied.

"Lay it on me."

I laughed. "Well, a year ago, I got arrested because of that letter I sent to you," I told him. "I mean, it was for aiding and abetting, which is total bullshit..."

"The system is fucked," Mickey replied. "Were you sentenced?"

"My father-in-law pulled some strings, got the charges dropped. Had to spend the night in jail, though, and it was totally messed up."

"What about your husband?"

"On the run, like you," I replied. "His old record came to light, even though it was supposed to have been expunged, but someone got their hands on it and, even though he did the time a lifetime ago, he was going to be put away again."

"So, he ran?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Mickey hesitated for a moment, crossing his arms and leaning up against my car. "I don't know how much longer I can be down here."

"Yeah?" I asked. "What are you thinking of?"

He sighed. "I was thinking about heading back up... You know, seeing what I can do to get a lesser sentence or just get out and... Well, you know."

"He's single, you know," I said quietly.

Immediately, Mickey looked up at me. "What?"

"Ian," I replied. "His ex-boyfriend was the one who turned me in to the cops."

"Fucking prick," Mickey replied.

I scoffed. "Yeah, fucking prick."

Mickey sighed then, shaking his head. "I guess I'll have to find someone to represent me when I head back up there," he said softly, looking up at the sky, which was slowly beginning to absorb the sunset. "Ian always loved sunrises..."

I raised my eyes upwards, following Mickey's line of sight. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. When he was working at the club, he was totally whacked and wouldn't sleep, and would go for runs in the morning... He'd take a shit ton of sunrise pictures."

I turned my head then, briefly checking on Iana before I turned and looked at Mickey again. "I know you could get out in front of this," I told him then, as he turned and looked at me. "From what I hear about my half-sister, she's as fucked as they come. I may be biased, but it sounds to me like you were provoked in that situation."

Mickey sighed. "Jury didn't see it that way..."

"Well, then the jury was wrong," I replied, crossing my arms. "Juries have been wrong before, and it sounds like this was a severe case of a miscarriage of justice. Of course, the fact that you had a prior record didn't help, but given the environment you were raised in, I'm not surprised that the jury convicted. Although, it's clear that it could've been motivated by prejudicial circumstances..." I muttered.

Mickey smirked. "Yeah? How do you figure?"

I scoffed, trying not to laugh. "Dude, you're fucking gay," I replied. "And as much as I respect people for their ability to form their own opinions, sexuality as a whole is still criticized in this day and age."

Mickey nodded. "You don't need to tell me that."

I nodded back at him. "I know I don't."

"Ian know you're here?"

I shook my head. "No. He's watching my other kids. He just knew that I was leaving, but not where I was going."

Mickey grinned. "You've got other kids?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Two boys. Twins."

"Jesus," Mickey muttered. "How old are they?"

"A year old," I reply. "They're good kids."

"They got names, or did you just call them Thing 1 and Thing 2?"

"Fionn and Clayton," I replied.

"Think you'll ever have more kids?"

I shrugged. "No idea. With my husband on the lam, I can't see myself moving on so easily, given what I did..."

Mickey turned and looked at me. "You do something?"

I laughed. "Not something so weird that others haven't done it."

Mickey looked confused. "What'd you do?"

I looked around for a moment before taking ahold of the neck of my tank top and lowering it ever so slightly, showing off Nicholas's name, tattooed over my heart. "Well? Is it as bad as I think it is?" I asked him.

Mickey laughed aloud. "Probably not, considering that you probably spelled your husband's name right..."

I shrugged. "What can I say? I know how to spell."

"That your first?"

I shook my head, turning over my left arm so that he could see the names of my family, tattooed on my inner wrist. "Got two now. Don't know if I'll ever want or need another one, but it's not as if I'm not open to the idea."

"Sounds a little like me, I guess," Mickey replied in a quiet voice as I turned my arm back into its typical position. "Didn't know if I'd ever be open to the idea of going home. Thought I'd just stay here...waiting."

I smiled at him, slowly reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder and, to my relief, he didn't freak out at the contact. "He's waiting, too, Mick."

Mickey looked shocked then. "What?"

"Ian. He's waiting."

Mickey shook his head. "Don't fuck with me, Murph."

I laughed a little then, squeezing his shoulder before allowing my arm to drop back at my side. "I think I'm done fucking with people for an entire lifetime, Mick."

"So, you're not shitting me?" Mickey pressed. "Ian's waiting?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He's waiting for you to come home. Guess it's easier now that he doesn't have a fucking boyfriend anymore..."

Mickey covered his mouth for a moment then, looking utterly overwhelmed with the information I'd given him. He stepped away for a moment, and merely walked around the parking lot, just allowing himself to absorb the realization of what I was saying. "So, tell me exactly what you're saying here, Murph," he said, crossing back to me then, and grabbing ahold of my arms. "I need you to tell me exactly what's going on here, because I fucking love him, and I need to know how he feels about me, too..."

"He loves you," I reply, and watch as Mickey's attitude takes on a whole new look then as he pulls back from me, fully unprepared for the answer I'd given him.

"He loves me?" Mickey asked.

I nodded. "He never stopped," I tell him.

Mickey scoffed for a moment, and then suddenly he was grinning at me, and he immediately looked younger than I had ever seen him. "I need to get home as soon as I figure out my shit down here," he said, relieved.

I smiled. "You'll figure it out, and if you ever need someone to help you—personally or legally or whatever—you'll know where to find me."

Mickey looked uncertain. "How do I find you?"

"I live in the neighborhood—across the street," I tell him. "So, I know you'll be able to find me, and Ian, and all of us, once things are ready to be set in motion."

Mickey smiled, hesitating for a moment before crossing over to me and hugging me. "Guess I'm coming home at some point..."

I found a laugh escaping from me then; despite everything, and my one love running away from me for his own safety, maybe I could reunite other loves once and for all. "And we'll be waiting for you," I whispered back to him.

END OF SEASON SIX


End file.
